


The Wolves Among Us

by wrongaboutme



Series: The Moonlight Creatures [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Missing Persons, Torture, alternative universe, description of dead bodies, murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 09:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongaboutme/pseuds/wrongaboutme
Summary: To her colleagues she is an ordinary woman from the countryside, but she is not what they think.Éowyn is a werewolf.A police officer in the human world, Éowyn meets park ranger Faramir through a strange and suspicious case. As they team up to investigate, her pack clashes with their neighbours, and a darkness looms over the hidden magical world of Middle-earth.





	1. The Dead Body

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU with modern setting, Middle-earth is like a big country with magical creatures. There are elves, hobbits, dwarfs, witches and warlocks, and of course evil beings. The Men characters in LOTR would be werewolves.

Chapter 1: The Dead Body

“See you tomorrow!” Éowyn waves at her colleagues and leaves the police station at ten pm. The city is cold at night even in summer, she tugs the collar of her leather jacket close and releases a deep breath after she hops into her car. She texts Éomer,_ I am coming home_, and within seconds her brother replies, _Get us some beers. We are running low._ She grunts, shuts the door with force more than necessary and heads to the grocery store. 

“Hey, Éowyn.” Frodo looks up from his phone when she enters the shop. She smiles at the hobbit, whom she has known since childhood, and goes straight to the section for two beer packs. Frodo almost jumps when she drops them on the cashier. 

“Bad mood?” 

“I am sick of being the errand girl.” She sighs, leaning against the counter. “What about you?”

“Sam is worried about me with all the missing people lately. He wants me to stay with him. So I am taking a long holiday.”

“Who’s taking care of the shop then?”

“Merry and Pippin are having summer break. That’s sixteen dollars.” The hobbit looks around; there is no other living being in the store. “Do you need anything else?” 

Éowyn checks again for safety then nods. “The usual.”

Frodo fumbles under the counter and hands her a vial of red liquid. It looks like blood. Éowyn snatches it into her pocket. 

“That’s totally forty then.” Frodo says.

“Wait. Shouldn’t it be thirty?” Éowyn takes out the bottle. It looks exactly as before.

“It is hard to come by, now that Gandalf has gone to _who knows where_. I have to get them from a witch and it is expensive.”

Well, she doesn’t have any other choice. She doesn’t know if there will be side effects if she stops using it. She needs to talk to Gandalf but the warlock has disappeared for some weeks and the old man isn’t fond of phone. Once back in the car, she texts Arwen to see if he has gone to the Elvendom.

The Rohan’s family owns hectares of farmland near Aldburg. It’s one hour drive back to her home from Edoras and she enjoys the quietness after the full day of hectic work. After passing through the stables and barns, a three storey of red bricks and golden roof comes to view. 

She curses - there is a Jeep parked right on her usual spot. She has to park on the grass and she storms inside with two packs of beers. She kicks the door shut and walks in; there are voices from the dining room. Sudden anger fuels her tired body when the whole family is there with Aragorn, clearly having a council without her. They stop talking when they notice they have an intruder.

Her eyes fall onto Aragorn with threats. “Your car is on my spot.” 

Aragorn, the unfortunate victim of her sour mood, raises his eyebrows innocently. “I apologize, my lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” she grits her teeth at his tease and Théoden offers kindly. “Éowyn, you must be tired from work. Go to bed.”

“You are not dismissing me,” she drops the packs on the table and sits down next to Éomer, who rubs his temples in despair. “Go on. Is there something I shouldn’t know about?”

“Perhaps we can postpone.” Théodred suggests with hesitation.

“I don’t see why she cannot listen to this. We are all in this together.” Aragorn says. The male Rohirrim are tough to deal with and way too protective of that fierce woman. 

“Thanks, Aragorn. You are more supportive than my own family.” Éowyn remarks, arms cross in front of her chest. If her eyes can shoot bullets they are all dead now. Silently they avoid her sharp glance except Aragorn, who actually doesn’t see her as a little girl but a woman with ability to handle herself. She looks up to him and wants to be as great as him one day.

Théoden sighs. “All right.” He asks Aragorn. “What does Denethor suggest?” 

Éowyn listens attentively. Although she is not taught about politics between werewolves, she knows Denethor is the leader of the Gondorian pack, their territory is right next to theirs, separated by Mering Stream in the middle of Firien Wood. There have been some territorial disputes for some months now and Aragorn is acting as the mediator between them. 

The leader of the Northern pack shrugs. “He wants to solve this in a civil manner, a meeting with you to clarify confusing facts and settle on terms. It has to be done on a neutral ground, so with you two’s permission, I will ask Thranduil and Elrond about that.”

“That’s good to hear. Thank you for helping this. What about the missing persons? Have they talked to you about it?” Théoden inquires.

It starts two months ago, when Gamling, a beta of their pack, went under radar when he was going back home from a patrol. His scent disappeared in the middle of the road and they have no idea what happened to him. 

“It’s a more delicate matter. Turns out the Gondorian has missed an alpha. The elves and hobbits are vanishing as well.” Aragorn then remembers Éowyn is a police officer. He turns to her. “Maybe you can look out for us. See if the police is digging into the cases.”

“Actually, I think a dwarf child is reported missing last week.” She frowns at the memory of a frantic mother, crying her daughter has not returned after school and she couldn’t find her anywhere. “The police asked around to find any witness, but no one has seen her.”

“I have a bad feeling about this whole thing,” Aragorn whispers. “I sought advice from Galadriel and her mirror last week: there are evil deeds being done in Middle-earth._ They_ are returning.”

Éowyn remembers the dark time. Not long ago Sauron tried to take down other creatures to rule the magical world of this land. Her father died defending their home and her mother, grieved by his death, passed away from a broken heart. She was too small to go to battle then. Aragorn led others to victory with help from hobbits, elves, and dwarfs. Sauron was defeated and his spirit was imprisoned in a realm created by wizards and elves. For fifteen years their lands have been peaceful, now there are ominous signs of the evil’s return. 

Théoden and Théodred see Aragorn off at the door. Éowyn opens two beers and gives one to Éomer. 

“It seems my tactic to delay you doesn’t work.” 

“Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to find out I am not included in a meeting? It is like my opinion does not matter. I am part of the family!” Éowyn snaps. The Rohirrim pack is dominated by male and she is often ordered to leave when there is a meeting or patrol. She wants to contribute and prove her worth in the pack. When she is denied the chance to be involved in the politics, she applies to be a police officer. Two years of hard work earn her respect from her colleagues that she cannot get from her own family. 

“Isn’t that what you want? Live a_ normal life_, like a human.”

“I become a police officer because I want to show you guys what I am capable of.” She says coldly. “And I want to be involved in the business; I can patrol with the pack and be in the meetings, just that you and uncle keep pushing me back in the house like I am some silly teenager who doesn’t know her limits.” 

“The world is dangerous, Éowyn, especially for werewolves like you.” Éomer’s voice rises. Can’t she see he is worried sick about her? When she presented five years ago his worst fear became truth. Théoden once threatened to slit a wolf’s throat to stop the shameless proposals from other packs. They will not let her become a breeding stock. He wouldn’t let her go to work if Gimli and Legolas haven’t promised to watch over her. She is an easy prey to those with ill intent.

“Everyone is constantly reminding me of what I am and I am aware of my status. Because I am an omega I have to stay behind when you risk your life out there? I know how to fight - I learn it from you and uncle and Théodred. I am not some glass doll to be locked up in a showcase.” Éowyn spits bitterly.

“Éomer!” Théodred calls out from the door. It is time for the late night patrol.

“We will talk about this later.” Éomer finishes the bottle.

“I am coming too. I want to be my true self tonight.” Éowyn shoulders her way through the two alphas. It has been a long time since she is in her wolf form and she wants to run in the woods to feel the wind on her furs.

Théodred, her cousin, takes her hand gently. “You just get off from a twelve hour shift and there are dark circles under your eyes. Take this night off. You can join us tomorrow.” He coaxes. She knows this trick; her cousin always looks for a soft spot instead of going head to head with her.

As fury leaves her body, indeed she starts to feel the fatigue creeping in. Yet she insists. She is not going to lose in front of her brother.

“If you are not listening to me, listen to Théodred. You really need rest.” Éomer joins in.

Since her brother has softened his attitude, the need to fight back diminishes. They have offered her an easy way out so she takes it. “I am actually tired.” On cue, a giant yawn escapes her. 

Théodred laughs at her embarrassed face. “Don’t wait up.” 

They shake their clothes off on the porch and let their naked bodies bathe in the moonlight. Their bones crack and in alien ways their bodies twist. Within a blink, they are in their wolf forms. Théodred is dark brown with greyish eyes while Éomer has fur of golden wheat. Their cousin howls to the sky. In the distance there are answering howls. Éomer looks back at her and she nods with a smile, and he is off with their cousin, running across the field. Éowyn closes the door when they disappear behind the horizon.

She locks her door securely before fishing out the vial from her pocket. It is her lifesaver. Ever since she has presented as omega, her scent attracts unwanted attention and the heat is insufferable, since she does not want to sleep with anyone. It is pure torture that lasts for entire week. She learns about the suppressant through Frodo, who introduced her to Gandalf. A master in portions, she buys from him liquid that covers her scent and suppresses her heat. She drains the vial and instantly feels a coldness from her core as if her womb is being put under ice water. Freezing, she takes a hot bath to warm herself up. 

The next morning she wakes with a strange feeling in her stomach. She climbs out of her warm bed and prepares for the day. However, her day is officially spoiled; she can smell the greasy hair and sweats coming from downstairs. _The worm is here. _She tries not to let Gríma’s presence bother her, but when she walks into the dining room and locks eyes with him, she is disgusted by the lust he harbours for her. Éowyn ignores his greeting and goes straight to the kitchen where Théoden is making breakfast.

“I don’t like him in our house.” She speaks lowly as she pours a cup of coffee.

Théoden adds salt and flips the eggs. “He says he has something to report to me.”

“He could have just called.” She wrinkles her nose in distaste. “I do not like the way he looks at me.”

“You are thinking too much. He has no one else. I can’t exile him.” Gríma’s parents were slain during the dark time and he has been living alone. A lone wolf cannot survive out there. Théoden pities him and let him act as a scout, collecting information in exchange for the pack’s protection. He kisses Éowyn on the cheek. “I have cooked your favorite.”

She follows her uncle to the dining room; Théoden puts the plate on the table and asks Gríma out to the porch for discretion. Usually she would protest and argue to be included, this time she is happy to be left alone. She checks her phone for the messages. Her colleagues are texting about gossips as usual. Gimli asks if she can drop by his shop as he has kept a special gun for her, concerning the recent news. Arwen replies her earlier question that no one in Rivendell has seen Gandalf at all and that she would watch out for her. 

As she puts the plate and mug in the sink, the hairs on her neck stand. She turns to find Gríma by the door, blocking the only exit. 

“What did you inform uncle?” She asks.

“Still trying to get your way into the family business?” Gríma creeps closer, cornering her. “I thought you prefer muddling with humans instead of your own kin.”

She can defend herself if Gríma attacks her, but he has an aura about him that makes her heart fright even in her home. He stops just an arm length away and she can smell his stinky breaths. “You are too weak. Omegas are only good for breeding, you know? I do not understand why Théoden is keeping you here while he can gain a great alliance through you.”

“I am much more than that,” Éowyn controlled her shaky voice, both in fear and in anger.

Gríma laughs. “I am sure those humans would say you are. But you are not them and they can never understand you. What do you think would happen when they know_ what you are_?” His mocking face changes into a horrifying expression. “They will kill you.”

Éowyn swallows hard and pushes her way out from Gríma’s mental cage. She shouldn’t listen to him; his words are poison and he is trying to alienate her from the family. 

The drive to work is terrible as she cannot shake his voice out of her head. Meeting the worm is definitely the worst way to start a day. 

When she gets to the office, Sergeant Shepherd is waiting for her, leaning against her desk. He looks upset so she inquires carefully. “Sergeant?”

“Oh, Dernhelm, you are back.” Shepherd is tall for a human with dark hair and brown eyes, similar age to Théodred. He smells like can foods and diapers, probably because he has two cats and a baby at home. “You are coming with me.” He immediately leads the way to the yard. Éowyn strides after him and they get into a police car. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Firien Wood. A dead body.”

Éowyn searches his face for any jokes but he is serious. “Shouldn’t it be handled by the senior officers?” She has been in the force for mere two years, the youngest in the station.

Shepherd drives steadily. “Those boys from the city don’t know shit. I hear you are from the rural.”

“I live near Aldburg.” Éowyn supplements.

“The park rangers found the body this morning about six. It seems like an animal attack, but they want our opinion on it and we need to carry out procedure for the dead. You haven’t got a dead body case before, have you?” He starts talking casually with her once they get onto the straight road that leads to their destination.

“No,” she answers, but she has seen dead bodies before during the dark time. One of the barns was transformed as temporary infirmary and she helped there. So many were injured, and some carried back dead, their bodies incomplete. 

A dead body in Firien Wood - a forest that situates right on the territories between Rohirrim and Gondorian. Éowyn couldn’t help but worry. From the sound of it, there is the potential of a dispute between wolves. With the negotiation taking place, she hopes it is just some random stranger lost in the woods and got chased down by animals.

“My first is an angry wife axed her husband. I vomited, totally lost my shit. So don’t be embarrassed.” He smiles kindly. “Just curious, are you available on the 29th?”

Éowyn is surprised by that question. “Why?”

“It’s my daughter’s one year old party. My wife wants me to invite some colleagues over, but you know how barbaric those boys are. You know what to say and do at the right time. My wife will like you.”

“She isn’t jealous?”

Shepherd laughs wholeheartedly. “I hope she will! Ever since the baby is born I feel like I am just a piece of furniture to her.”

She laughs with him, but the next second her laughter dies down. _You are not them_. Gríma’s voice echoes in her head.

“Count me in.” She says to Shepherd. She will not let Gríma get into her head. She is not one of them, but she feels more accepted by humans than her own pack. They appreciate her effort and will not brush her off because of what she is, unlike her family and other magical creatures. She needs to think about her future. Does she want to stay with her family, or maybe start a new life as a human?


	2. Teaming Up

Chapter 2: Teaming Up

Other teams are already there when they pull over at the roadblock outside the woods. Shepherd shows his ID to the officers and they are let in. “Faramir!” He shouts to the man in park ranger uniform talking to some officers with his back towards them.

Said man turns around and shakes hands with sergeant, and he tips his hat to Éowyn. “Never seen you before. I am Faramir.”

“Dernhelm.” She smiles in return. He is a handsome fellow with a pleasant smell. A unique mixed of books and gunpowder, unlike her brother’s hay and musk. She allows herself some indulgence on the nice fragrance.

“Could you guide us there?” Shepherd asks.

“This way.” Faramir tilts his head towards the woods. They walk for about fifteen minutes and she could smell the dry blood and rotten flesh with her sensitive nose as they get closer. Before they reach it, Faramir warns them. “It is not pretty.” 

Feeling he directs this to her, Éowyn replies with confidence. “I can handle it.”

Shepherd and Faramir exchange a look: they are doubtful of her reactions upon seeing the bloody scene. To prove she is not scared, she walks ahead of them with her head high. The two men follow right behind her and Éowyn stops when she sees the body. 

A piece of the body.

The guard lifts the cordon to let them through. “Jesus,” Shepherd whispers. The body is dismembered, limps scattered here and there. Yet there is very little blood, Éowyn notes, and no footprints. Half of the ribcage is in the open, another half the flesh is still intact, but already starting to decompose due to hot and humid weather. She crouches to inspect an arm. These are obvious bite marks of animals, uneven cuts, same as other parts of the body.

“Where is the head?” She looks at Faramir.

He seems impressed that she hasn’t vomited yet. “Over here.” Just five yards away there is the ball of blond hair under a tree. Her nose picks up something.  _ What is it? _ She digs into her brain; it smells like sweet corn and ginger, very familiar. When she is just two steps away from the head, Éowyn recognises it.

“Could you turn his head around?” She asks hoarsely. _ _

“Sure,” Faramir says in a suspicious tone. He puts on gloves before turning the head to her direction.

_ Gamling! _ Éowyn sucks in a quick breath and stares at his anguished face and the empty eyes, and her heart breaks at the agony he must have experienced before his death. He has gone missing for two months and the pack knows something bad must have happened. But this…?

“Any identification?” Sergeant asks.

Faramir shakes his head. “No ID, clothes, or belongings.”

Although she knows Gamling since youth, she cannot speak for him right now. In the human world they have no connection. She can only listen when Shepherd calls to arrange a DNA sample collection and tries to get some photos from missing person profiles for matching. 

“What do you think, Éowyn?” Shepherd looks at her with sadness. He has a big heart and it is difficult to see a man being torn to pieces. 

She is shaken out of her daze. “I believe it is an animal attack. With the bite marks and uneven tearing of the flesh.” Yet deep down she doesn’t believe it. If he was attacked by animals, there would be way more blood. Also Gamling was an experienced fighter who survived the dark time; he was a tough wolf to fight against, and he was careful with his track. The bite marks are definitely forged after his death to make it look like an accident of ill fate. Instinct tells her it has something to do with the missing supernatural creatures, but she cannot risk exposing the hidden world to humans.

“Alright, that’s enough for us. We’ll keep you posted.” Shepherd puts his notes away. 

“I hope we will see each other in a different circumstance next time, Éowyn.” Faramir smiles and she turns away to avoid his captivating eyes. 

Shepherd asks once they are back in the car. “So… what’s that about? You don’t like him?” 

“What?” Éowyn frowns. Did she act wrongly as a human should be?

“Faramir is interested in you and you didn’t even notice.” 

“Are you sure?” She can’t help but gasp. The good-looking park ranger likes her? She recalls their interactions, and slowly she realises what the sergeant means. She missed the signs completely. That’s why he was smiling at her when they said goodbye... “ _ Oh my god. _ ” 

“I can’t believe you.” Shepherd cries out and starts the car.

The rest of the day she works with a heavy heart. She calls Théoden during the break and tells him about Gamling, she is answered by long pause and a simple sentence,  _ I understand _ . Her colleagues ask about her depressed mood, and she fakes that she is slightly disturbed by the dead body in the woods. They pat her shoulders in sympathy. Shepherd tasks her to find the identity of the body. She knows already, and uses the time to search for missing persons in the last two months in the system. If she doesn’t count Gamling, there are twelve cases. She has a sick feeling that it is part of a bigger deed. His murder is tip of the iceberg. Secretly she takes photos of the profiles for later use.

Éowyn is surprised to see Éomer at the parking lots waiting for her after work. He gives her a tight hug and whispers. “I need to see you.”

Normally she would protest that she doesn’t need protection, but Gamling’s death puts everyone on edge. Éomer worries about her and rightfully so. If she has a little brother, she would have done the same thing. 

At home a council is being held and to her dislike Gríma is there too. Théodred and Éomer are not pleased but Théoden insists on having his opinion. So Éowyn reports to them about the scene and her suspicion.

“The murderer tries to frame it like an unfortunate animal encounter, but there is little fresh blood and no animal footprints.” She explains. “I think it has something to do with the missing persons. There are twelves cases in the last two months. Twice more than the entire last year.”

“I have asked around; the elves and dwarfs haven’t discovered a body in their territories yet.” Théodred contributes.

“Where did you say the body is?” Gríma says after long silence.

“Firien Wood. On our side.”

Gríma shakes his head in frustration. “Oh Théoden! Can’t you see it is the Gondorian work? They want the whole forest for themselves; it is an excellent hunting ground. By kidnapping and killing Gamling, dumping his body on our lands, they prove they are better than you.”

“Where does that come from? They ask Aragorn to arrange a meeting with us to settle the dispute.” Théodred states. He never likes the skinny black wolf.

“You are being fooled! This is exactly what they want. Just when you lower your guards, thinking you would reach a peaceful treaty, they would raise war and kill every single one of us. They have got Gamling, anyone can be their next target. It matches what I found earlier. Denethor’s sons have been patrolling the woods. They must have brought Gamling there and killed him.” Gríma exclaims, and strangely Théoden nods at his words.

“We have met them before; they are polite and really look forward to the meeting. Uncle, you are not listening to him, right?” Éomer frowns.

Théoden murmurs. “We never have a close relationship with the Gondorians. Long ago Firien Wood was all theirs, half is only gifted to us through marriage of my parents.”

“They think you are weak, Théoden. They do not think you deserve your mother’s heritage and they want the forest back. We shouldn’t attend the meeting now that they show disrespect.” Gríma adds, seeing that the pack leader is persuaded. 

“This is baseless accusation.” Éowyn glares at the warmongering worm. 

Théodred whispers to his father, “We should consult Aragorn first before making any decision.”

Théoden slams on the table, his face suddenly becomes furious. “No. I have decided. We have nothing to discuss with the murderers. The Gondorians must pay for what they have done.” 

“Father!”

“Uncle, you must reconsider.” 

There is no use talking sense into Théoden. He howls at Théodred when he tries to argue with Gríma, saying that the lone wolf is more useful than they. In disappointment their leader goes with Gríma to console Gamling’s family, and the young wolves are left to ponder what has just happened.

“It’s like he is being spelled.” Théodred says. “Gríma must have told him something, but father wouldn’t share what they discussed.”

“We cannot afford a war with the Gondorians.” Eomer hands them each a beer. 

Éowyn downs half of it in one go. She is having a headache due to Gamling’s death and Théoden’s refusal to listen. “Do you think the Gondorians did this?” 

Her brother sighs. “I don’t know, though it is one of the many possibilities.”

“They wouldn’t do it. I know Boromir, Denethor’s son. He is a honorable man.” Théodred thinks. “I should give Aragorn a call about this.” Then he goes to the porch to make the call.

Did the Gondorian kidnap Gamling two months ago? Yet it happened in the deep part of the Rohirrim territory, they wouldn’t go unnoticed with their different scents. Perhaps they were helped by a witch or warlock. Then what about other cases of missing persons? Do they have a hand in them too? As Éowyn contemplates, more questions pop out. 

“What’s going on in your little head?” Éomer tugs her closer and she leans on his broad shoulder. 

“I keep thinking about Gamling.” She can’t believe he is dead - she trembles as the image of his empty eyes flashes before her.

Éomer kisses her template softly. “Promise me you will be careful? Gimli told me about the gun. You should pick it up tomorrow.”

“I will,” Éowyn says. The visit to the scene this morning is hasty; she should return to the scene later when it is not heavily guarded. There can be signs she overlooked. 

“You are not thinking about going back to the scene, are you?” Éomer scowls. 

She lies without second thought. “No.” 

He is doubtful about her answer but he doesn’t press further. “Good.” She hears his whisper. “I can’t lose you too.” 

In response she hugs his waist with her arms. She hates lying to him but she has to do this. She has stayed back long enough and now darkness threatens the life of her loved ones. She has to find out the culprit before the two packs declare war.

Éowyn drops by Gimli’s shop before work. It is a small factory specialises in weaponry in Edoras with a shopfront to sell. On the walls hang bows and knives, inside the cabinets are various kinds of guns. “Hey Éowyn.” The dwarf hugs her tightly before showing her way into the backroom. “I craft this gun for you.”

On his station is a ten-chambered revolver with dark wood grip. Éowyn holds it and finds it extremely light. “What is it made of?” It fits her hand perfectly.

“Metal from Elvendom.” Gimli introduces in pride. He takes out a box of bullets which look no different than the ordinary ones, except the green tip. “I have asked Legolas to supply the customised bullets. It is powerful enough to kill Morgoth!”

“It better be,” Éowyn laughs. “How much do I owe you?”

Gimli waves a hand. “I watched you grew up, lass. I can’t bear the idea that something happens to you. Take it as a gift.”

She bends and kisses his cheek, knowing she cannot win over an argument with him. “Thank you, Gimli.” 

After a quick breakfast together, Éowyn goes to work and starts the paperwork on Gamling’s case. The DNA results are in; she flips through it, as it confirms the body belongs to Gamling, and she drafts the report for Shepherd. She finishes it before the evening.

The sergeant reads it briefly. “I will send this to the rangers to confirm the details, then it will be official. Efficient work as usual, Dernhelm.” 

Éowyn nods curtly and returns to her desk. It feels emotionally detached to write a report for someone she knows dearly. Yet she reminds herself she is a professional. Gamling’s case might be officially closed, but she will find justice for him even if she has to do it by herself alone.

At the end of her shift she texts Éomer that she is having some drinks with colleagues. Éomer immediately calls her and says he is coming to pick her up after that. Although he has a point, she is annoyed by his concern. 

“I am not driving. I have a gun with me. I can stay at Frodo’s or Gimli’s.” 

“I will check with them, you know.” Éomer grumbles. He doesn’t like this one bit.

“I know. Be careful with the patrol.” Éowyn hangs up. 

She doesn’t go with the group for drinks. Instead, she drives towards Firien Wood. The roadblock is no longer there and she parks outside the forest. The moon hangs high in the sky and it is dark. With the flashlight from her phone, she traces back the route they took yesterday. Her nose picks up the lingering scents and soon she is back to the scene. The cordon is still on but there is no guard and the body has been removed. She inspects the area again: if Gamling was chased down by animals, at least there should be footprints leading to the scene. The weather has been dry without rain for the last three days so the track wouldn’t be washed away or covered by mud. Yet she finds none. And there is no scratch marks, no signs of struggle. 

It is possible that magic is involved when the footprints and track are entirely erased. And all magic leaves a trace.

The moonlight peeks through the canopy. She looks up at the sky and contemplates if it is a good idea to rid of her clothes in the forest, though the wolf inside urges her to do so. _ If the case is closed, no one should be visiting this late.  _ Then Éowyn strips and hangs her clothes and the holster to some twigs nearby, and goes under the light. She opens her arms and feels the gentle touches of moon on her pale skin. As she breathes deeply the spirits of the nature, her bones snap and twist, and she is on four, paws on the slightly wet soils. Her white fur is unique in the line of Rohirrim and she wears it proudly. If it is winter, she would blend into the background with her snowy coat. 

She stretches and moves around first. It’s been a long time since her last transformation and it feels weird to be walking on four. After some warm up, instinct takes over and she sniffs around carefully. Every scent is intensified and she is overwhelmed; among the fruits, flower and trees, and the feces and urines of animals, she catches a stinky odor like rotten fish. She follows it and she has been circling the scene. She is right - there is remnant of magic and unlike Gandalf’s refreshing smell, it reeks and makes her gag. 

She tries to pick out Gamling’s scent but she cannot find a trace outside the scene. It is odd because everything is confined within the several yards. She changes back and hastily dresses herself. She has her shirt back on and when she is halfway through yanking her jeans up, she hears footsteps and an acquainted scent is getting thicker. There is a flashlight ahead, coming closer to her direction. In panic she hides behind the tree and wiggles into the tight pants. 

Fallen twigs and leaves crackle under heavy boots. The flashlight goes around the scene and Éowyn tries to keep her breaths under control, praying that the person would go away. However, her eyes fall on her holster.  _ Shit! _ She was busy getting her clothes back that she completely forgot about the gun! She curses wordlessly when the gun is spotted, just an arm length away from her hiding place. 

“Whoever is here, come out now.” A voice calls out just behind the tree.

_ Why does it have to be him? _ Éowyn whines in frustration - it is Faramir. She weighs her options: one, she keep quiets and hopefully Faramir would go away; second, she waits until he is close and knocks him unconscious; third, she turns into a giant wolf and scares him to death; fourth, she can come out and tell him the truth. 

“If you come out right this moment, I promise I wouldn’t shoot you.” Faramir says. His voice is steady and he means every word of it.

Éowyn closes her eyes for a moment before shouting out loud, “Don’t shoot!” and walks out from the shadow. She is instantly blinded by the flashlight on her face and she holds her hands high, displaying her empty hands. 

“Éowyn?” Faramir frowns and moves the light away. He is in the ranger uniform, a gun in his hand. 

She tugs a tight smile. “Hello again.” 

“What are you doing here?” Though he is relaxed at the sight of her, his gun is still pointing at her. She understands - it is questionable why she is back to the scene at night alone. Hell, she would probably just shoot whoever crosses the cordon.

Now, does she want Faramir to know her real reason to be here? She senses that befriending him might be advantageous; he is park ranger and maybe he can tell her if he has encountered any strange incident in the forest lately. Besides, he is an attractive man…

“You have doubts about this too, right?” She asks quietly.

Faramir gulps at hesitation, and she takes the chance. “I know what I have written in the report but I don’t believe a word of it. There’s no way he died from animal attack. You are a park ranger, you know the evidence suggests otherwise.”

“What are you implying?” 

“Gamling was murdered and I want to find out who did it.” Éowyn states, and is pleased to see Faramir isn’t shocked by her statement. 

“So you are back to inspect the scene yourself.” Finally he lowers his gun and tucks it back into the holster. Éowyn exhales the breath she has been holding. He eyes her strangely; her clothes are disheveled, and there are horrors in his eyes. “Did something happen to you?”

Éowyn stutters and turns around to do her zipper and tugs the boots back on. She grabs the gun holster and fastens it to her belt. “Nothing happened. Not to me anyway.” 

Hands on his hip, the park ranger snickers in relief. He looks bossy. “You are done playing detective. Let me escort you out.”

She bites her bottom lip. "I am serious. It’s not a game for me.” She draws her hand away when Faramir wants to hold her elbow, like when she is handling a suspect. “What are you doing in the forest so late?” 

“Patrol.” He answers briefly. “Where is your car?”

“I can walk on my own.” Éowyn protests, thinking she has failed to get Faramir on her side. 

“Let me walk with you. It is dangerous out here by yourself.” Faramir jogs to her as she turns her flashlight on and walks back to the car. They walk in silence. The park ranger only speaks when Éowyn is getting into her car.

“You shouldn’t be coming here alone even if you have a gun. What if the murderer returns?”

Éowyn watches him carefully. “So you agree with me that Gamling was killed.” Usually she can tell what her human colleagues are thinking by their expressions; somehow he is a difficult to read. He seems genuinely concerned about her safety, but there is something more underneath those soft grey eyes. She stops herself from staring at his moving lips.

“No human footprints and with obvious animal bite marks, they wouldn’t be convinced otherwise. It is a waste of effort. I have seen too many cases like that.” Faramir pinches his nose bridge in annoyance. He leans on the window and their faces are close. 

A plan is formed in her head. She looks up to him with a smirk, challenging him. “Are you going to do something about it?”

Faramir squints, and she can tell he is fighting an inner battle. After a moment of staring contest he hums in approval. “Give me your phone.”

Knowing it works, she willingly hands her phone over. Faramir calls his number and gives it back. Happily she grins. “Now we are partners in crime.” Perhaps it is questionable to get the park ranger involved, but at that moment she thinks it’s a great idea. 

Faramir shakes his head fondly. “Give me the details you have on Gamling. Next time, call me when you go on a secret mission.”

“I can handle myself.” She waves her gun at his face. 

He chuckles, but puts on a straight face when he means business. “No. I want to catch the killer with you. I get a feeling that this is just a beginning.”

This is the first time someone likes her idea. At that split second she makes a decision which she might regret later. “When does your shift end?” She points the passenger seat with her chin.

Intrigued, he smiles and accepts her offer.


	3. Legwork

Chapter 3: Legwork 

Éowyn stays in the car as Faramir goes changing at his office. As she waits, she texts Frodo if she can stay at his place for the night, and saves Faramir’s number as _handsome park ranger._

At the corner of her eyes she sees him coming out. He looks more relaxed in his green shirt and jeans. There is a man next to him. They seem close; the man rounds his arm about Faramir’s shoulder. He seems annoyed and rolls his eyes at something the man said. The man laughs and watches him strides to her car.

Faramir buckles his seatbelt and asks when Éowyn stares at him, smirking. “What?”

“Is he your brother?” Their interaction amuses her. 

“Yes,” He snorts. “Drive now or else he is going to tag along. He never misses a chance to drink himself blind.”

At his order Éowyn starts the engine. It is a Thursday night so the bar isn’t busy. They find a reclusive booth away from the crowd. With drinks, they begin their game.

“How long have you been working as a park ranger?” 

“Almost my entire life.” Faramir recalls. “My brother and I went camping a lots when we were kids and I love it there; being with nature and away from the people. As soon as I graduated I applied for the job.” Though it is plain and simple history, he carries a tone of sadness. “What about you?”

“Two years.” Éowyn sighs when she thinks about the reason behind her application. “I am not as noble as you. My family is um… involved in military stuff. I want to join the business but they don’t think it’s a good idea for a woman.”

“What would they have you do then?” Faramir frowns.

Her tongue clicks. “Nine-to-five, something behind a desk in a nice office, I guess.”

“So you become a police officer, directly against their orders. That’s rebellious. And brave, too.” 

She stares right into his admiring eyes. “That’s the first time someone says that about me. They usually think I am silly to act that way.” 

“They are wrong.” He returns her glance without fear, and she has to look away from those gentle eye. Sensing that she doesn’t want to continue the topic, he gets back to the reason they are there in the first place. “Tell me more about the murder.”

“Well, you already know all of it. The problem is, Gamling was kidnapped two months ago and his body only showed up yesterday morning or the night before that. We need to fill in the two months’ gap. Also, I have pulled some files from the system; there have been twelves cases of missing persons since Gamling.” Éowyn shows him the pictures of the profiles in her phone. “They are very similar: vanished from the earth without a trace.”

Faramir looks at the pictures. He tries to memorize their faces. “If they are done by the same person, either they are still alive or they are killed and bodies waiting to be dumped somewhere.” He downs a huge gulp of beer, deeply troubled by the prospect of a serial killer. “This is huge. How are you going to do this?”

“I am not sure yet.” Éowyn admits. Up to now she has done everything by instinct. They know nothing about the killer and they have to be careful in their next move. “How about this: we will look through those profiles and follow up some of them, looking for witness, CCTV, anything of that sort.” 

“We should do an analysis with them first, focus on the cases that are actually related to Gamling.” Faramir suggests. Upon his request to send him the photos, she needs him to swear in discretion. He sighs and rubs his face in tiredness. “Do you want my help or not? If you don’t trust me, I can walk away and pretend this never happens.”

Éowyn searches his eyes; he doesn’t budge and let her see through him. Honesty, passion, and hurt. Somehow, she finds herself reflected in Faramir. In the end, she sends the pictures to him, and they clasp their hands together to mark the start of their partnership.

Both exhausted from work, they walk out of the bar after two more beers. “Where do you live?” She asks. He doesn’t look like a city boy.

“Ithilien.” 

Éowyn gasps. That’s three hours’ drive from Edoras and his car is back at the ranger office. “Let me drive you home.”

He laughs, not because he thinks her offer stupid, but it is an extremely nice gesture. “My brother is picking me up. We will crash at his friend’s place.”

“I am sorry,” she apologizes still because she feels guilty about dragging him all the way to the city for a drink.

“Don’t be. It’s not like someone is waiting for me at home.” Faramir shrugs. Again there comes this sorrow of him she can’t explain.

“I am staying at a friend’s house in the city. Let me wait with you.” Éowyn suggests. It is way past midnight and the city is no safer than the forest. 

“Nice of you to think of me, but I can handle myself.” Faramir lifts up his jacket and reveals the gun belted to his waist. She glares at his teasing smirk for it is an imitation of her earlier back in the woods. 

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, irritated but entertained. “I am heading this way.” She points the opposite pavement. They wave their goodbyes and she walks away. He is staring at her, she knows, and she resists the urge to look back.

Frodo’s place is only five minutes away and he has already set up the sofa for her. She plummets and groans, realises how tired she is. The hobbit thoughtfully dims the light and sits down next to her. “What did you do this time?” 

“I went out drinking with my colleagues.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Éowyn. I am covering for you. I deserve the truth.” Frodo explains. When Éomer called him earlier he sounded extremely anxious. The hobbit doesn’t blame him, for his sister tends to surprise everyone. 

Éowyn leans back against the sofa and grabs a pillow to cuddle with. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth. The path she is going down is perilous. “I went out with this guy. He is nice.”

“You met a guy?” Frodo almost jumps out of excitement. “Is he _ human _?”

“Yes!” She cries out with flushed cheeks. “And he is handsome, smells very nice too. He has eyes that speak.”

“I don’t remember you have ever complimented a guy before. How did you meet? Tell me everything!” 

“Get me some water, my friend.” Éowyn sighs. If she wants to get Frodo distracted, it is the best way to go. 

They end up talking all night and eventually sleep on the sofa at sunrise, which turns into a mess because they fight for the blanket and pillows during their sleep. Frodo, physically weaker, has been kicked off and is snoring on the ground, whereas Éowyn is slobbering, one leg dangling off the edge and the other is up on the sofa back.

Éowyn wakes at her ringtone. Grumpily she reads the caller’s name. “Hey, brother.”

“Open up.”

“What?”

“I am at Frodo’s apartment. Open up NOW!” He is howling outside. She jolts and walks over the hobbit to get the door. Éomer looks fairly pissed and storms inside.

He nudges Frodo’s torso. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.” 

Éowyn closes the door and almost yells at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to have a little chat with our friendly hobbit here.” He says, just as Frodo opens his eyes and gasps when he sees the golden wolf above him. Éomer pulls him up from the floor and pushes him into his bedroom. Éowyn trails after them, trying to rescue her friend. However, Frodo reassures her that he is fine and the door is shut right at her face. 

She leans on the door; they are basically shouting at each other. 

“When did she get here last night?” Éomer interrogates. 

“Just after midnight.” Frodo answers. “Look, I am sorry I didn’t call you when she got here, but I was busy!”

“From what it looks like, you two had a heart-to-heart talk on the sofa and you couldn’t spare a second to text me.” Éomer might appear like a brute but he is observant. “She told you what she did last night. Tell me every word she said.”

“That’s a private conversation!” The hobbit protests. “If you want to know, ask her yourself.”

“You broke your promise, hobbit.” Éomer hisses. Then his tone suddenly softens - a change of tactic. “Frodo, you must understand how it feels when your family and friends are in danger?”

“Is Éowyn in danger?” Frodo’s voice is filled with concern.

“She is not weak; we train her personally to make sure she has the skills to defend herself. Sometimes it is not enough. You must have heard about all those missing people recently? And with her status… can you imagine how worried I was when you two didn’t answer your phones?” Éomer leans against the wall. “I just want to make sure no harm comes to her way.”

At last, the hobbit says. “She met someone and they had drinks.”

“A human?”

“Yes.”

Dreadful silence fills the room; before Éowyn can get away from the door, it is opened and she comes face to face with her brother. He opens his mouth but no word comes. Seconds later he sighs heavily, a weariness weighs down his broad shoulders. “Let’s go home.” 

Éowyn mouths a thanks to Frodo before gathering her stuff and gets into Éomer’s Chevy Suburban. The drive is quiet. It feels like the day he had to pick her from the school because she punched a guy who made demeaning remarks at her. He is angry, she could tell, but not at her. No; he is angry about the world. They are much alike with their father’s temper, and she understands that he needs time to sort out his thoughts. 

Guilty about lying to Éomer, she avoids him for the rest of the day. Usually she would help out in the farm, but she decides to work on her side mission. She puts together a timeline of the disappearance and sends it to Aragorn for confirmation. Eight of them, including Gamling, are related to the supernatural world: two werewolves, two hobbits, three dwarfs, and one elf. The leader of the Northern pack inquires about her intention, but she just warns him not to mention anything to her family and ignores his following texts. She trusts Aragorn to keep it a secret. 

She then begins to study those cases. She needs to convince Faramir why they look through them first, and she cannot plainly tell him _ they are all supernatural creatures, just like Gamling _. Therefore, the day she spends comparing them for similarity. Fully devoted, she works until dinner, which she devours, and returns to the task in her locked bedroom. 

When everything is prepared, she sends Faramir the file and asks his availability. The park ranger is surprised by her efficiency and they work out a time to meet for the investigation. Since they both work in shift, the fastest they can manage is four days away from then. Éowyn is pleased because the first step is always difficult and she has made it. She just has to go through her days before Friday.

Éomer checks on her from time to time, but he rarely calls unless he is sure she can take them. On the surface, they are back to normal. However, Éomer is keeping his distance, still shocked from the news of her going out with a human and he doesn’t know how to react.

Fridays finally arrives; Éowyn wakes at sunrise before everyone else and hops into her car to the train station. From there she takes the first train to Minas Tirith.

Faramir is waiting for her in the concourse. He is easily spotted among the crowd due to his height. The closer she gets the nicer he smells. He really carries a refreshing scent. Not many humans are approved by her nose.

“Good morning.” Éowyn says. Faramir is delighted to see her and quickly excuses himself off the phone. 

“Breakfast?” He asks as they walk out of the station, and adds when he notices her scowls. “We can do it in the car.”

Although she would like to enjoy a full breakfast, they have little time to work with. They buy sandwiches and milkshakes in the drive-through. As Faramir drives them to the first location, he summarises their itinerary of the day. “We have Fíli and Kíli on the fifth level. Then Beregond on the sixth.”

“You have read through their files?” Éowyn takes a huge bite of her sandwich.

He nods. “Fíli and Kíli, twins, 22 years old, disappeared after football practices in university. Last seen by their teammates. Beregond, taekwondo master and instructor, didn’t return home from grocery shopping.” He spares a glance at her as he drives uphill. “Have you thought about how to talk to their family? We are not here by official order.”

“I have my badge with me.” 

“Alright.” Faramir turns a corner and they are on the fifth level. “Who will do the talking?” He parks underneath a tree.

“I will.” Éowyn drinks half of her milkshake and gets out of the car. Two blocks away they reach the house. She knocks confidently on the door and a dwarf opens the door. “What is this?”

She shows him her badge. “I am Dernhelm, and this is my colleague.” She introduces themselves. “You must be Thorin. We are here to talk about Fíli and Kíli.”

Thorin frowns deeply and he looks at Faramir with distrust. “Did you find my nephews?” 

She shakes her head in sympathy. “No, but that’s why we are here.” 

“I have already spoken to the police. I have nothing else to say.” Thorin glares at the park ranger and shuts the door at their faces. Éowyn turns to Faramir with questioning eyes. “Did you know him?”

“No.” He shrugs innocently. “How about we visit the university?”

Éowyn sighs. She has oversimplified their tasks. Faramir takes her to the university and they retrace the footsteps of the twin brothers. They usually walk home and it is a twenty-minute journey. Faramir and Éowyn spot several CCTV cameras from the shops along the roads and have asked to review the footages. Some agree to do so. Through pieces of video capture, they deduce the twins were kidnapped somewhere after they passed the bakery, five blocks away from their house. Éowyn tries to use her nose to pick out some magical remnant, but her nose is not as effective while she’s in human form. Disappointed, Faramir offers to buy her ice cream.

“I am not a child.” She huffs, still she accepts the cone when he runs back from the truck.

“It is one of the best in Minas Tirith.” Faramir grins when she licks the vanilla ice cream.

Her eyes widen by the taste; it is smooth and it melts on her tongue. Her face must be funny because Faramir laughs heartily as he flickers at his matcha ice cream. They walk up to Beregond’s residence as they chat.

“You come to the city often?” Éowyn asks. Minas Tirith, the capital of Middle-earth, is different from Edoras; it is built on the slope of a hill and most buildings are of white stones, while red bricks are dominant in Edoras. More populated, she has to be careful on the street not to bump into other people. Her heart skips a beat when Faramir pulls her elbow to drag her closer on the narrow pavements. 

“My home is in Ithilien, but I grew up here.” Faramir explains. “I went to boarding school and studied at the national university.”

Éowyn gasps. The National University of Minas Tirith is the top academy in Middle-earth. He must be clever and bright to be accepted and then graduated. “What did you study?”

He blushes, which she finds quite endearing. "You probably wouldn’t believe it - literature and poetry.” 

She is speechless for a moment because it is a great contrast to his work and his appearance. However, she then understands the softness in his eyes. He has a gentle soul. “I believe it.” 

“You don’t think it is weird?” Faramir seems surprised by her answer.

“If it is what you love, why would it be weird?” Éowyn smiles. He returns it timidly and they finish their ice cream before Beregond’s house. 

She knocks on the door and a middle-aged woman appears. She looks scared when she sees Éowyn but her eyes brighten at Faramir. Yet the park ranger doesn’t speak or do anything, so she asks the woman. “Sorry to disturb you. Are you Beregond’s wife? Police officer Dernhelm.” She shows her the badge.

“Is there something I can help you with?” The wife asks, eyes constantly drifting between Faramir and Éowyn.

“We want to ask you about Beregond’s disappearance. Before the incident, had he behaved strangely or spoken to you about unusual events?” 

The wife is hesitant at first, but after a quick glance at the park ranger she agrees and invites them inside. Éowyn inquires about their exchange with her eyes - but Faramir ignores her and walks straight into the house. She browses around; the shelves are decorated with awards and the walls are full of pictures; Beregond and his wife on the wedding day. The day their son was born. Receiving awards in competitions. She stares at them with interest. She likes the human custom of taking photos. 

In the living room tea is served with cookies. It is cozy. Éowyn sits down next to Faramir and the wife is opposite them on an armchair. “Is there any news about Beregond? It’s been a month.”

“Sadly no. We are here to try to find out more. We believe your husband’s disappearance is linked with other cases in the country. Could you provide us with some details about his work?” Éowyn takes out her notepad.

Again the wife looks to Faramir first before answering her question. “Beregond is a taekwondo instructor. He has a club on the third level, teaching kids mostly. He manages it with other partners.”

“Have he spoken to you about having arguments with them, or any strange event?” 

“No,” the wife shakes her head. “His business is legit, and he is respected by his peers. He is a terrible liar. We don’t keep secrets from each other. If he is involved in some shady business I would have known.”

Éowyn asks a few more questions about the day he disappeared and thanks her for the information. She walks ahead and finds Faramir lags behind, and he is whispering to Beregond’s wife. _ They know each other,_ so she waits outside until they have finished their talk. The park ranger leaves the house with a gloomy face, and he leads the way to the grocery without a word. 

At the grocery she asks the manager if they can show her the video footage of the CCTV to clarify the timeline. However, Beregond never went to the shop that day. He must be kidnapped on his way to the grocery. They then visit the club and interview the partners. They speak highly of Beregond and they still cannot believe he would get into any trouble that causes his disappearance. Éowyn rubs her temples in annoyance because there is the urge to transform into a wolf and sniff around for magic. Faramir notices her fidgets and suggests dinner, since they cannot get more information for both cases and they are done for the day. 

He takes her to a diner in a quiet part of the city on the first level. “I lived here when I attended university.” He explains when he is recognized in the neighbourhood. Most compliment Éowyn and tease Faramir about finally getting a girlfriend - which he reacts by blushing furiously with a frantic explanation of them being colleagues. 

They slip into a booth at the corner of the diner. The waitress again mistakes Éowyn as his girlfriend. “Oh! At least you bring your girl here. We have been waiting for so long.”

“I am his colleague.” She introduces herself so that he wouldn’t have to. 

“Now that’s a shame. What can I get for you, honey?” 

She looks at Faramir for clues; she doesn’t know what’s good of this place. So he places the order for them. “Two regulars, black coffee for me. You?”

“Iced tea.”

As the waitress leaves with their orders, Faramir buries his face in his hands. “I am so sorry.” He muffled awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” Éowyn laughs. It is fascinating to see the tall and handsome park ranger being embarrassed over such matter. “It seems you are popular here. Everyone knows you.”

“This neighbourhood lives mostly elders. I was very young back then. It felt like I had many grandparents.” Faramir jokes, cheeks still flushed. 

His shy smile is very adorable in her opinion. Éowyn plays with the straw when the drinks are delivered. “So you know Beregond personally?” 

Faramir says in sorrow. “He taught us self-defence in boarding school, and I continued learning from him during my degree. We spoke time to time even after I moved back to Ithilien.” He clears his throat and there are tears in his eyes. Éowyn is sympathetic. She knows how it feels to lose someone. 

She reaches over. Faramir releases his grip from the coffee mug and takes her offering hand. His hand is huge and decorated with callus. When her determined eyes lock with his tender ones, she says to him. “We will find out what happened to him. Together.”

Faramir parts his mouth; but before he can speak, the waitress has their food and puts the two full plates down on the table. Éowyn withdraws from his warmth and inhales deeply, the scents of the freshly made burger and fries fill her lungs. “It smells good!” Her stomach groans in time to echo her statement, and she is glad to hear his chuckles.

They start to get comfortable around each other during dinner. Faramir shares about his unworldly encounters with rare animals in the forests, and Éowyn tells him her love for horses and how she prefers Edoras more than Minas Tirith. To that, he agrees. “I prefer Ithilien anyway. Less crowded and it is surrounded by nature.” 

She has never been this relaxed around another person other than her family and friends. In front of her colleagues, there is a need to keep her façade because she can never be one of them. It is another case with Faramir - like her, he is keeping secrets. And perhaps that’s why she is drawn to him.

They chat late until Éowyn has to catch the last train back to Aldburg. As they walk to the station from the parking lot, Faramir concludes. “It’s a fruitful day.” 

“Yeah.” Éowyn replies, though she wishes she can come back as a wolf to sniff out the magic remnant. “Text me your schedule so that I can work out another day of legwork.”

“Of course.” 

When they part at the station, Faramir bends down to peck on her cheek. A chill runs through her spine and she hopes the night clouds her blush. “Be safe.” He whispers, and she promises to text him when she gets back home, only if he does the same. The park ranger agrees and stays until her train leaves the platform. 

Éowyn exhales a breath. She likes Faramir and she is scared at the prospect of falling for him.


	4. The Capture

Chapter 4: The Capture

The following two weeks Éowyn and Faramir meet for dinner several times to share what they find from the other cases. She is handling Ruby and Minto, the two hobbits were kidnapped in Shire and it would take a plane to get there. So she sets up a video call with the mother for an interview.

Ruby and Minto, ten and eight respectively, are good kids; they are loved by everyone and the family cannot believe they are taken within plain sight. Éowyn asks if they have encountered anything out of ordinary, their mother mentions a warlock was visiting Shire during that time.

“A warlock? What does he look like?” 

“He dressed in white. I don’t know how he looks exactly because I only saw him from afar. He played with the children and showed them many tricks in the plaza.” Their mother wipes the tears away. “Ruby and Minto loved it, but they didn’t return home afterwards.”

“Did you tell this to the police before?” Éowyn quickly jots down notes. A warlock could explain why they vanished into thin air without a trace.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Humans can't help. I recognise you - you are Frodo’s friend, right?”

“We have known each other for a long time.” Éowyn says. “I will do anything to find out what happened to them.” 

When the video call ends, she gulps down her beer. She is close now - before she has suspected a witch or a warlock is involved, now this is confirmed. This doesn’t give her any joy because she has no idea how powerful her enemy is. If it is a human she can handle, but a warlock… she has to keep Gimli’s gun with her all the time.

She tells Faramir of this discovery the next day when they meet in Edoras as he has business to do in the city. 

“But we do not have more information about this man.” Faramir sighs in desperation. She doesn’t tell him the whole truth except an old man in white playing with the children before they disappeared. She felt guilty but it is the only way. It would put him in danger if he knows about the supernatural world. 

“I have checked the police report. There are discontinuous visuals of a man in white shirt and pants, though none can link back to the siblings.” Éowyn has gone through the records and ends up with nothing. The warlock knows how to hide. 

“So a dead end.” He ruffles his hair. “At least we have a suspect. That’s good.”

She nods absently. She needs to consult Gandalf. _ Where can she find him? _

For the time being they set aside their investigation and get their stomachs filled. They talk about everything and nothing - Faramir complains about his brother’s annoying behaviours during patrols, though she can tell he loves him dearly. It is the same with Éomer and she; she shares about how protective Éomer is and he has the same sentiment. Afterwards, they continue in another bar. 

“Let me guess - you are born in a family of alphas.” Faramir says.

Éowyn, horrified, stutters. “What do you mean?” 

He doesn’t expect her stunned reaction, so he elaborates carefully. “That you are raised and surrounded by alpha males?” 

Her rapidly beating heart is calmed. Luckily she hasn’t started sweating. She laughs nervously. “Oh! Why would you think that?”

“You are tougher than most women I have met. The way you act… it just gives me this feeling of having many big brothers watching over you.” Faramir shrugs and drinks his beer. 

“It is not a good thing to have men telling you what to do, I can assure you.” She loves her family, truly. Yet, she is often bound by their love for her, and her wings are being cut off. “They scolded me when I first got the job. They still think it is a stupid idea, especially my brother.”

“Do you really enjoy being a police officer or you just want to piss them off?” 

“A little bit of both. I guess it is about gaining control over my own life. Did I tell you I was homeschooled?”

Faramir shakes his head. 

“I wanted to go to a public school to meet other kids, but they thought it was better if I received my education at home.” She conceals the actual reason; werewolves commonly keep their distance with humans. “I was lonely except a few friends. And it got worse when my parents…”

She stops. It is still hard to talk about them. She is startled lightly by the hand on her shoulder; he is looking at her with sympathy, his hand rubbing in circles to soothe her nerves. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

She thinks he understands.

They call it a night after finishing their drinks. As they leave the bar, someone shouts her name.

“Dernhelm!” It is Shepherd and his wife. The couple has just come out of the movie theatre. “I didn’t expect to see you two together. Having a date?”

Éowyn and Faramir stand staring at each other with stammering words. “This isn’t what you think,” she tries to explain.

“I know what I saw.” The sergeant jokes and asks the park ranger. “Am I going to see you at the party?”

“What party?” 

“My daughter’s birthday party. You should come as Éowyn’s date.” 

“Sergeant.” Éowyn warns him with her deadly glares. His wife defuses the situation. “It’s nice to meet you. The babysitter is leaving soon.” Then Shepherd is dragged away as they banter.

“Does he really think we are together?” She moans. She can imagine the group chat is going to explode into gossips about their _relationship._

“It is better than him knowing we are privately conducting an investigation.” He says. “Is it uncomfortable for you to be mistaken as my girlfriend?”

Now this is a tricky question. Éowyn reads his face - he is nervous, lips purse into a thin line and eyes wavering. The answer is _no,_ of that she is certain. She actually enjoys being teased about them together, since Faramir is good-looking and easy to be with. She has imagined many times being in a relationship with someone, but she doesn’t expect it to be a human.

“No,” eventually she says. She has made a choice that would affect her entire life.

He is relieved and his tense shoulders drop. He offers himself. “If you want me to go with you to the party, I will. You only have to ask.”

“It’s next week, the 29th.”

At first he is surprised to hear her prompt answer, but a smile brightens his face seconds later. “I would love to go.” 

Since they have been drinking, Faramir decides to stay in the city for the night. Éowyn invites him to Frodo’s place; the hobbit has left for Shire to stay with Sam for a while and he gave her the keys of his apartment in case of emergency.

“Am I getting the bed?” He teases playfully.

“We can sleep in the bed together.” She plays along as they stroll to the apartment. 

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” the park ranger’s eyes sparkle under the moonlight. They are bottomless, ocean grey, and gentle, luring her to fall into them. She holds back her desire to kiss him - because she knows herself. She wouldn’t be able to stop once she crosses that line.

They cross the light and pass a dark alley. They are still fighting for the bed when two shadows jump out of the darkness and grab them into the back street. Éowyn yelps and struggles against the brute, but ceases immediately when she feels a sharp knife touching her throat. She is pushed against the wall, her gun jabbing her back, and the man presses on top of her that she can smell his stinky breaths. She grits her teeth when his hand clutches onto her hip.

“If you don’t want us to hurt your pretty girl, hand us the wallets.” 

Her breath hitches as a hand sneaks under her shirt. She attempts to grab the man’s arms but the knife is very close to her artery. “If I were you, I wouldn’t try to do anything.” The brute snickers, and imposes more pressure on her neck.

Éowyn turns her head with difficulty to find Faramir in a similar situation, only that the knife is pointing at his stomach and the thief is standing two steps away. The park ranger looks to her direction; his eyes are flashing dangerously. 

“Don’t touch her.” He snarls.

“Hurry!” The other man urges, and the knife on her throat slides down to her collarbone. She withstands the hand that is creeping close to her breasts, and stares stubbornly at the thief on top of her, resisting the temptation to bite his face off. 

“It’s in my back pocket,” Faramir says, his hand slowly reaching back. He doesn’t get the wallet. She remembers he also carries a gun - and when he swiftly pulls it out from the holster, she knees the man’s groin and swats his wrist, the knife flying to the opposite wall. 

As the man groans in pain, she kicks him again in the stomach, sends him whimpering on the floor and gets her gun out too. “Stay where you are.” She shouts. 

“Shit.” The thief curses, drops his weapon and raises his hands.

They call the police immediately and give their statements. She is fairly calm during the process. When the police declare it is okay for them to go, she doesn’t remember how she gets to the apartment door, but her hands are too shaky that she cannot hold the key to the hole. 

“Let me,” Faramir takes the key and opens the door for her. She is led to the sofa and she drops, boneless, and feels dizzy. A glass of water touches her lips and she drinks it hungrily. He puts the glass away and rubs her arms gently. 

“Breathe in. Breathe out.” He instructs and repeats until her breathing is slowed.

She leans her head on his broad shoulder, taking comfort in his embrace. All of a sudden emotion floods her, the stress of the hostile situation finally breaks loose. She holds onto him and trembles. There is no tear. She is simply overwhelmed. She is a police officer but no criminals in the past have assaulted her and threatened her life before. 

“It’s the adrenaline rush. You will be okay.” Faramir soothes, and she nods, breathing in his scent which helps to calm her down. She likes how he smells; books, gunpowder, fire. Peace amidst chaos and war. 

“How come you are not affected?” Her voice is muffled by his shirt.

“Do you not remember that one time I came head to head to a jaguar? I have many experiences in life-or-death situations.” His hands never stop rubbing her back, and when she is finally settled down, she pulls away.

“Thank you.” She whispers. 

The park ranger beams and goes to the closet looking for spare sheets and blankets. Éowyn is relieved because for a fleeting moment she has wanted to kiss him. He sleeps on the sofa as a gentleman would, and she is tucked in bed with a kiss on her forehead. 

The next morning she wakes with Faramir gone. He has left her a note that he left early to get back to Ithilien. She takes some painkillers and texts him. He replies rather quickly and sends a smile to her face. Even though no one can see her, she controls her facial expression and gets on her day with a heart of joy. Even the gossipers cannot spoil her mood. 

After the incident in the alley, they text every day. At first they are checking in on each other, later it evolves into sharing what they have done for the day or anything interesting that they have read. She makes special notification ringtone for him, and starts to look forward to receiving his messages. If time allows, they would call to update their investigation and have scheduled to visit Rivendell for Glorfindel, the missing elf, a week after the birthday party. The call always ends up with them talking completely unrelated to the cases. 

The week is torturous for her and she is anxious when the day comes. Rarely she puts on her make-up and dresses in the tight leather pants with a denim shirt. When she passes the hallway, Théodred whistles humorously from the living room. “A hot date?”

Éowyn rolls her eyes and doesn’t stop for him. “Not your business!” 

She is going to pick up Faramir at the train station in Edoras and drive them to Shepherd’s house. She is extremely nervous as she waits, thinking she might have overdone her attire. Her doubt is replaced by pride when the park ranger emerges from the station, his eyes instantly widen at her look, breath taken by the sight of her.

“You look great, Éowyn.” He praises and his eyes wandering along her body with desire. He is wearing a pale grey button-up with tiny skulls as patterns, tugged in the form-fitting black pants. Slightly more formal than his usual wear, she finds him very pleasing to the eye. 

“This is not my best game. We cannot steal the birthday girl’s glory, can we?” She grins. 

Shepherd’s residence a lovely blue house with a huge backyard decorated with banners and balloons. When they arrive, most of the guests are already there, meeting the one-year-old and socialising. The sergeant spots them and greets warmly, his daughter clenching to him.

“Finally! Daisy, meet Éowyn and Faramir.” The girl waves at them, shouting noises as she cannot speak yet. This brings a smile to their faces.

“We have bought gifts for you, birthday girl.” The park ranger shows her the wrapped box. “A unicorn plush toy.” He says to Shepherd.

“She might grow up believing unicorns are real!” The sergeant jokes and Daisy giggles, sucking her fingers. 

_ They ARE real _, Éowyn thinks to herself and laughs along. She has bought a puzzle set for her and they put them on the gift table. 

There are colleagues from work and they are surprised to see Éowyn accompanied with a date, since she has not been interested in anyone at all during the two years. Faramir is flattered to hear that but she is too embarrassed to explain. “We need to grab some food first,” he says politely and takes her to the table full of food to get their cakes and fruit punch. 

They remain at the back, watching kids running around and other people in joyous conversation. She never has had a party like this before; it is not a tradition to celebrate birthdays in their cultures. 

Suddenly a loud whine breaks the happy atmosphere. A boy is crying on the ground, wailing that another boy has taken his lollipop. Their parents rush in to solve the problem, and very soon the two boys reconcile and are laughing again.

“There’s this one time my brother played tricks on me,” Faramir says as they eat the cake. They were out camping; he was scared shitless when he thought a wolf was attacking their tent and begged his brother to leave. Turns out the wolf was actually their uncle and they had planned this way ahead to scare him. 

Éowyn chuckles at the ridiculous story and tries to think of a piece of her childhood to share, but then she remembers very few happy moments. Her whole childhood has been plagued by the deaths of her parents, then by the cage her family set upon her in the name of protection. All she can recall is the grief when she watched their bodies being buried and the joyless days of being reprimanded for wanting to go outside and play.

“Are you okay?” 

She is shaken out of her daze. She quickly chews the cake in her mouth. “Yeah.”

Faramir is perceptive; something he said has triggered this reaction. “I do not have a happy childhood as you might think. My mother got sick after giving birth to me and she passed away when I was five. My father… he blames me for it. He never likes me.” He chuckles in sadness, his eyes trailing after the children playing near the pool. It pains him to think about it. “That’s why he sent me away to the city, so that he wouldn’t have to look at me.”

“You are not bothered by it? I mean… your father doesn’t love you as he should.” Eowyn wants to comfort him, holds his hands and tells him he has done nothing wrong to deserve such treatment. “You don’t have to share it with me. I know it is painful to speak of such thing.”

“Once I hated him. Now, I realise he is too much in grief by the death of his wife. It is unimaginable to lose someone you have loved with your entire life. If he doesn’t love me, it is fine. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in hatred and anger. There are beautiful things in the world waiting for me to discover and love.” His eyes soften at the last sentence, and she lowers her head in shame because she has been dwelling in self-pity and letting the dissatisfaction and hatred grow against her family, when he fights back and becomes a person with a great heart. 

“Sometimes love can be a burden instead of a blessing.” She smiles tightly at him as he looked rather worried. “My parents died when I was seven. My brother and I were taken in by our uncle and raised in his farms. Perhaps since I am the only woman and the youngest in the family, they feel this necessity to protect me.”

“But it is more like a cage that traps your spirit.”

Faramir speaks her mind exactly. “Yes.” She whispers. 

“I apologise for making this so gloomy,” he says bitterly. “This is supposed to be a happy occasion.”

She shakes her head. “You have made me realise something. It’s nice to talk with someone who gets it.”

“If you need someone to listen, I am here for you.” 

Faramir holds her hand. She searches his face and finds tenderness and love. At that moment, she has decided. More precisely, her heart has decided to fall for him. Tightly she returns his grip and laces their fingers. He smiles at her briefly, before their attention is drawn to the centre, where Daisy’s parents begin to sing birthday song to her. The frosty wall around her heart is melted by the warmth of his hand, and she leans on his shoulder as the guests sing together for Daisy. For the first time she feels there is hope in her future. 

Since they both have work to do the next day, Faramir has to catch the train back to Ithilien in the evening. They kiss on each other’s cheek to say goodbye. As she drives back to Aldburg, the phantom of his lips still lingers on her skin. She admires her willpower to not kiss him at the train station. They have agreed to take it slow. 

She parks in front of the house with a song on her lips and merry steps. Théodred is on the porch talking to Éomer and he grins with mischief when she gets to the door. “How’s the date going?”

“As I said, not your business!” She repeats, this time with a huge smirk. She is in high spirits that she cannot see the troubled face of Éomer and goes straight back to her room to change. 

She texts Faramir and he replies he is still on his way home. He promises to call later once he gets home and she decides to grab some dinner first. In the past, dinner is the gathering time for the family. However, Théoden has been out with Gríma lately and he seldom eats at the house. Théodred is an excellent cook and her mouth waters at the delicious smell. She gets down to the dining room and finds only her cousin.

“Where are others?” She asks.

“Father is out again with Gríma. Éomer is in a bad mood.” Théodred sets down a plate for her, another he holds, intends to send it up to his room. 

“I miss your cooking.” She hasn’t eaten at home for a week so she dives into the food. Her phone blinks. It is Arwen, reconfirming that Gandalf has gone under radar for a while. No one on the north side of the River Entwash has caught a glimpse of his shadow. The warlock is known to wander without telling anyone, so she isn’t worried. 

She cleans the dishes afterwards as Théodred has to patrol. Instead of joining him, Éomer looks for her.

“I need to talk to you.” He signals her to go outside, so she rids of the gloves and follows him.

The moon is thin like a thread of hair; he begins to strip without a word. She undresses too. It has become a bonding activity between the siblings to run as wolves together. Under the shower of moonlight, they return to their most original form, giant like a bear, one golden and one white, and they howl to the sky. Once the ritual is completed, they huff and run, their paws scratch the wooden floor of the porch. 

The race has begun - they were competitive since youth, and two wolves are running like hell is on their arses. She speeds through the weeds and plants of the farm, bursts into a vast plain of the Eastfold. The summer wind caresses her furs and she lets instinct take over. For that moment she is not a woman, but a wolf in its true nature. Along the White Mountain they hare towards Firien Wood. 

Éomer is faster and reaches it before her. She huffs angrily but he doesn’t care; he simply barks back, declaring his victory. She loses the match and she must accept it. As the tension with the Gondorian grows, they dare not venture into the woods without others. They amble by the edge of the forest, sniffing around for prey. 

Her nose picks up a fresh smell of blood. She follows the trail and finds a tiny pool of blood and leftover of placenta. A fawn was born just earlier. They memorise the scent and track it. A group of deer is ahead of them, resting. The siblings approach them silently from both sides. Sneaking, their paws are noiseless on the ground. Their furs are easily spotted in the forest, but they cleverly hide themselves in the darkness where light cannot reach. The fawn is in the middle of the group, surrounded by adults. The newborn carries a tasty scent that makes their mouths water. When the moon is temporarily clouded, they sprint out from the dark.

The deer are frightened and immediately disperse. Since they attack from both sides, the group is separated into two directions. The fawn jumps and seeks its mother, who runs away due to survival instinct. The wolves focus on the tiny animal and she bites at its throat before him. She feels the blood gushing out from its artery, the taste of it makes her pupils dilate. The fawn struggles weakly against her jaw, but her teeth are embedded in its flesh. After a few minutes, it releases its last breath on earth. 

Without a word Éomer stands in his human form. Éowyn tilts her head in confusion.

“Can you really live _ as a human, with a human _?” 

She transforms, naked, her face and body covered in blood. The moon is out again. She looks up at Éomer against the light in terror, the realisation of her nature hits her so hard that she cannot react. 

The dead body of the fawn she holds in her hands. It was once full of life, now simply a piece of meat. She is not hungry - for fun and entertainment, she killed it. She is born a killer.

Under the cruel stares of Éomer, she starts crying. She bawls, voice echoing in the forest, and she curls with the dead fawn in her arms, and she clutches onto her brother when he hugs her tightly. 

Théodred has been pacing on the porch, and is worried about them when they return way after midnight, their bodies painted with blood. However, Éomer assures him they were hunting and the blood is from the prey. Éowyn does not utter a word but storm inside.

“Éowyn!” Théodred wants to chase after her, seeing her red puffy eyes, but Éomer stops him. She rushes into her room and locks it. She is exhausted, strengthless. Collapses against the door, once again tears find their way down her cheeks. She tries to dry them but then she sees her red hands. She is a killer. A werewolf. A creature of moonlight.

She can never be a human.

* * *

Since then she has been haunted by a troubling dream; she is hunting in the forest. Instead of the fawn in her hands, it is Faramir. She often wakes from the nightmare, screaming, the sight of his torn throat imprinted in her mind. The image is too real to forget.

The texts she send to the park ranger are cold and emotionless. He has tried to call but she never answers, faking that she is too busy with work and family that she doesn’t have time to speak on the phone. Getting a cold shoulder, his texts become less frequent and now they only discuss about the cases. 

They have arranged a short trip to Rivendell and she dreads the day to come. When Théodred sees her packing a small bag the day before the trip, she explains she needs some time alone. 

“Promise to text me, okay?” He soothes her arms. He is like another brother to her. “I will ask Arwen to check in on you.”

“It’s only four days. I will be back by this weekend.” She zips the bag and throws it on the floor. She understands his concern; she has been depressed since the hunt in the Firien Wood. 

“Still, with everything that’s going on, you can’t be too safe.” Théodred speaks of what happened between her and Éomer when she doesn’t make a promise. “He shouldn’t do that to you. How do you feel?”

“Honestly? I feel terrible.” She suspires and plummets down onto the bed. He sits down next to her. They never talk about it - there is an unspoken rule among werewolves to find their mates within themselves, or at least in the supernatural world, like Aragorn and Arwen. Marrying human is not unheard of. It would mean cutting ties with this world, banished from their clans and family. 

“He has told me about the human. Do you really like him?”

“It is the first time I really feel something.” The memories of being with Faramir make her beam, despite her gloomy mood. “I am confused. I want to be with him, yet in my heart I am always a wolf. Éomer proves it just the other night.”

“The world has changed. I don’t believe you can’t have both.”

“I don’t like hiding things from him, Théodred. If you are in a relationship, surely you want complete honesty? How can you trust someone when they withhold something from you?” 

“Everyone has secrets. You must understand this.” Théodred stands and kisses her brow. “It is your life, not mine. No matter what your choice is, I will support you.”

Another night of troubled sleep results in her grumpy mood. With the lack of sleep, Éomer offers to drive her to the airport. She accepts it with a nod but doesn’t speak to him at all during the ride. She is angry that even Théodred is more supportive than her own brother. If he wants to tell her he is against dating with human, he could’ve just said it. No. He has to do it radically. She could never forgive him for that. So when they get to the airport she slams the door shut without saying goodbye. Éomer is shouting at her back, “You can’t be angry at me forever. We are family!” To that she whips her hair like she doesn’t care, and heads straight to the counter.

The plane takes about two hours. From the airport she catches the train and after half an hour, she is in the city that built in the valley. Rivendell is dominated with elves; though they live among humans, their beauty and grace often distinguish themselves from the crowd. Faramir arrives tomorrow so she settles in a humble hotel nearby the great river to catch up some sleep. She has no plan for the day except dinner with Arwen and her family.

When she wakes it is already four in the afternoon. Her stomach complains the emptiness and she goes out for some snack. She sits by the river with a bag of chips and watches the water running past the bridge. It’s been a long time since she visited Rivendell and it is unsettling to see nothing has changed while she has grown into a full wolf and no longer takes joy in simple things like she used to. How come things become so complicated?

When the sun is about to set she gets on her way to Elrond’s mansion. The Lord of Rivendell has a massive private library where she played hide and seek when she was a child. Arwen is there to welcome her; they hug since they haven’t met each other for a while.

The elf hooks her arm and leads her inside. Elladan and Elrohir are in the living room playing video games while Elrond is in the kitchen making meals.

“Come play! We have two more consoles.” The twins invite them to join. Éowyn gladly takes the console while Arwen decides to stay put. They are screaming at each other as they try to win three stars for the level. Elrond has to come in and scold them to keep the volume down. The four of them giggle, and turn off the game as dinner is almost ready. 

“How is your job going?” Elrond asks politely. He has cooked them seafood paella with salad and bread.

“It’s alright. I meet different sorts of people.”

“I am still amused that your uncle let you work in the city.” Elladan shoves a spoonful in his mouth. Elrohir echoes. “They are way too protective fo you.”

“I suppose they have their reasons.” Éowyn shrugs, though she agrees she can have more freedom and trust in her ability to defend herself. 

Elrond pours her wine. “I heard from Aragorn about Gamling and Théoden has cancelled the meeting with the Gondorian. Are the Rohirrim considering a war?”

“I don’t know, honestly.” Her appetite suddenly vanishes. “They don’t allow me to be involved and I have been busy with work.”

Arwen glares at her father; it is a wrong topic to discuss. 

Elrond coughs lightly and turns to the twins, who happily seize the opportunity to make the conversation about the upcoming engagement party of Arwen and Aragorn. Arwen tries to include Éowyn in the conversation, but she is too distracted by her own thoughts to participate in the merriment. Later, Arwen has offered to walk her back to the hotel so that they can talk freely without disturbance.

“Éomer must have called you.” Éowyn says. They stroll along the riverside. 

“Actually he called my father. He wants him to persuade you _ not to do anything stupid, _ quoting his words. But my father thinks it is best to leave it to me, since it would be too authoritative for him to talk with you.” Arwen’s raven hair shines under the lamplights. Éowyn has always envied her beauty.

“He disapproves whatever I do. Does he tell you what he has done?”

“Not explicitly, but he does refer that you are thinking about choosing the life of a human.” Arwen watches her carefully.

Éowyn shakes her head in despair. The memory pains her greatly. “He invited me for a run and we hunted together. When I killed our prey and had blood on my hands, he told me I could never be a human.” It is his way to tell her she is an animal in her truest nature. How can she, with a heart of predator, live harmoniously among humans? 

Arwen gasps in shock. “That’s cruel.” 

They stop and lean against the balustrade. Éowyn looks up at the moon above their heads. Its light always brings her comfort.

“Is it impossible to love a human while remain what I am?” She whispers. “Sometimes I envy you. You are so clever and beautiful and you have Aragorn.”

Arwen holds her hand gently. “It is not easy for us either. My father is against our union because I would live much longer than Aragorn, and he fears that I would follow him to death when he dies.”

“Would you?” Éowyn swallows hard.

“Yes. I can love no one other than him.” She answers plainly like she is talking about weather. “Do you love him? The human.”

She thinks of Faramir’s smiles, his tender heart, holding onto hope despite the sorrow in his life. She has never gone a day without thinking about him and she craves his touches when the night is still. Never has she felt this towards any man.

“I think so,” she breathes. She melts into Arwen’s arms when the princess offers a hug. 

* * *

Éowyn is anxious as she is going to meet Faramir at the hotel lobby. She rehearses her speech in her mind and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. The park ranger arrives on time; he seems nervous too and he stands a remarkable distance away. “Hey.” He simply says.

Knowing she is the one to cause the tension between them, she takes his hand and leads him to the counter. “Let’s get you check in first.”

He raises a brow at their joining hands but she ignores him. When everything is settled, they are out looking for lunch. They choose to a comfy cafe in a small lane. Éowyn struggles to start her apology and finally finds the right timing after they have ordered their food. 

“I am sorry.” She cannot look him in the eyes. “I have been distant to you and it is unfair. I… had an argument with my family and it affects me in ways I cannot explain.”

“Is the argument about us?” He asks softly. She nods, and he purses his lips. “It is not my intention to cause trouble between you and your family.”

“You are not guilty of anything.” Éowyn reaches out and he takes her hand. Finally she has the courage to meet his soft grey eyes. “I want to be with you. They can fuck off if they oppose.”

Faramir laughs. “I like how headstrong you are. Still, is there no way to find common ground? Do they disapprove of what I do or…?”

There is no way to tell the truth. Therefore, she makes up an excuse. “They just want to control every aspect of my life. I am done obeying their orders.”

Faramir doesn’t seem convinced by her words but he kisses her knuckles like a gentleman. “Thank you for giving your heart to me.”

“Don’t break it,” she threatens with a grin. 

It isn’t easy to live a human life for a werewolf, but he is worth fighting for. She is willing to live her entire life on suppressants if that’s the cost she needs to bear. It is time for her to leave the cage and embrace a life of her own choosing.

Faramir can only spare two days in Rivendell so they make haste of their investigation. The first day they stay in the hotel room analysing the data they have collected and planned for tomorrow’s schedule. They still hold back their first kiss, for they know they would desire much more and they cannot be distracted. But they do tease each other frequently, both looking forward to developing their relationship further after the case is closed.

The next morning they go to Glorfindel’s house. According to records he has no family and lives alone by the woods that surround the city. A tiny path leads to his house and they hike for almost an hour to reach it. Although it is daytime the thick canopy makes it dark from the sunny weather. The atmosphere gets heavier as they venture deeper into the woods. Faramir seems agitated as he is constantly scanning the environment. 

“Are you alright?” She asks. It is right up ahead, a tiny brick house in the middle of the forest.

“Do you have your gun?”

“Yes,” Éowyn shows him the holster on her waist. 

“If anything happens, you run.” He says calmly. It has been abandoned for almost a month and plants have begun to grow along its pillars and walls. They stop in front of the porch.

“I wouldn’t just leave you here.” Éowyn states as they walk around. A friend of Glorfindel came to visit on an agreed time but when he arrived, it was empty. No sign of forced entry and struggle inside. 

A chilly wind blows through the forest; the leaves thrash against each other. Suddenly it begins to rain heavily and they seek shelter in the porch. She hasn’t sensed the danger for her wolf sense is suppressed. However, Faramir stops her when she suggests they should go inside for a peek.

“It is not a good idea. It can be a crime scene.” He pulls at her elbow and he looks around nervously.

“We are trapped here unless the rain is out. Why don’t we use our time wisely and take a look?”

He sighs in frustration. “This is a bad idea. We need to leave now.”

“What?” She frowns deeply. Just as the park ranger wants to drag her into the rain, her head screams. Her wolf instinct abruptly goes to full alert. Their eyes are drawn to a man striding from the path. He dresses in white, a black staff in his hand. 

The park ranger stands in front of Éowyn and he pulls out his gun. He grits his teeth as the man gets closer. “This is the moment you should run.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “I am not leaving.” And she also takes out her gun and loads the special bullets. 

The warlock with white hair stops a few yards away from them. “Young wolves, you have walked right into my trap.”

Éowyn steps out from Faramir’s shadow and points the gun at the warlock. It is Saruman. “Put down your staff.” She shouts; a warlock is dangerous with his staff. It is through it the magic is cast. Her aim at his heart is steady.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me in the face? Then you will never know the truth.” The old man sniggers. He lifts his staff and a bolt of lightning strikes a nearby tree. “There’s nothing you can do.” At the fall of his words, orcs pour out everywhere. 

“Fuck!” She curses and fires - the orc screams in agony and dies on the spot. Saruman raises his staff at her. Before Éowyn can do anything, Faramir shields her from the magic. He is hit on his shoulder and he loses his gun. The blast is powerful enough to bring them down and he collapses on top of her. 

“Faramir!” She cries and checks his pulse. He is still alive, but they are circled by the orcs and the warlock. She tugs him close and fires all the bullets, delivering seven more orcs to their deaths. When it runs out, the orcs separate her from Faramir. She kicks and screams, hitting some of them in the face, but they are outnumbered and the park ranger is unconscious. She watches the orcs drag him away and she tries to rid of the dirty hands on her. “You filthy orcs!” She swears and spits at Saruman’s face when he stands in front of her.

He wipes the saliva away. The tip of his staff emits a bright light that blinds her eyes, and she falls under the sleep spell.


	5. Revelation

Chapter 5: Revelation

Éowyn groans; the headache makes it feel like her head is about to explode. She tries to shade the light from her eyes but finds her hands bound. The metal chain clinks as she moves to sit up straight. Her hands are secured at her back with no other restraint. However, opposite her Faramir lays unmoved. He is bound by a metal collar and its chain is tied to the bar.

She is scared that he might be dead. The movement of his chest proves otherwise and she is relieved for the moment. They are in a giant cage - she looks around as her eyes adjust. The damp air is suffocating, so it seems they are in a dungeon. The cage is in the middle of the chamber. There are eight big water tanks lining up along the circular wall and she gasps at the sight of Fíli and Kíli in those transparent containers. They look like they are sleeping, floating in an unknown liquid. Next to them are a dwarf child. Ruby and Minto are there also. Beregond and Glorfindel too, are inside those tanks.

So she is right: a warlock, more specifically, Saruman is responsible for the kidnaps and she has dragged Faramir into this mess. She pulls the chain around her hands. She hisses angrily as it wouldn’t budge. Her skin is scraped. She never feels so useless in her life. 

Her eyes drift to Faramir. She shouldn’t have involved him in the investigation. Because of her, he is going to suffer a horrible death. She pleads him to wake up again and again but receives no response. Crestfallen, a flame breaks out within her body. She feels dizzy as the heat spreads from her core to her limbs. 

The door to the dungeon opens; Saruman, without his staff, strides to the cage. He nods approvingly. “You are wise to ask Gandalf for the potion but it is easily removed from your blood with a simple spell.” He looks down on her. “I have planned for a long time how I can get an omega. Then you head right into my direction.”

Éowyn growls at him as the fear creeps in. A familiar warmth from her belly is a sign of her heat. “If it is me that you want, let him go.” 

“You smell so delicious even for a warlock. I wonder what it is going to do to him?” He sneers.

She glares defiantly. _W_ _ _ha_t is he talking about? _

Her head turns at a small noise coming from Faramir. The man stirs as he regains consciousness. 

“Éowyn…” he whispers as he wakes. Suddenly he jolts up and eyes dart around in terror - they find Saruman first and eventually settle on her. His eyes widen. 

Éowyn tries to reach out but she can only wiggle. “Faramir!”

He backs away until he hits the cage bars and he yanks frantically at the collar around his neck. The warlock watches them with menace. He snaps his finger and the chain is gone. Faramir cowers and questions him. “Why are you doing this?”

The white warlock jeers. “Pain is part of the ceremony. My Master shall enjoy your suffering.” He points his staff at him and chants: a spell to reveal one’s true nature.

Faramir curses; his grey eyes lock with hers, and he says with shame, “I am sorry,” before he moans and his body begins to deform. She gulps as his clothes are being torn to shreds during the transformation. Before her, he turns into a wolf of black furs like the sky without the moon and stars. _ A Gondorian alpha._

Another wave of heat hits her and the wolf sniffs the air. An omega in heat would drive any alpha insane, that they lose their sense of being until they finish mating. She trembles in fear at the prospect of being violated, curling into a ball when the wolf sneaks closer to her with predatory eyes. Faramir is gone - his wolf instinct has taken over. She can smell herself as well as his musky scent that dominates over his usual fragrance of book and gunpowder. 

She shuts her eyes tight and raises her hands to block when his wet nose tries to get closer to her neck. He rumbles and huffs in annoyance. As she thinks he is going to attack her, Faramir jumps away like he has been shocked by an electric fence. She opens her eyes to find the wolf backing into a corner and biting onto his own hand. He groans as his body is out of his control, but he bites harder on himself until he bleeds. Faramir is still there battling against his instinct: he would rather hurt himself than inflicting harm on her.

Éowyn is touched but Saruman thinks not. He is angry that it doesn’t go as he planned. So he curses. “Foolish wolf. We shall see how long you can withhold yourself.” Then he leaves them alone in the cage and slams the door behind him. 

“Faramir…” She calls softly, yet the wolf only snarls in response as if telling her to shut up. So she keeps quiet and endures the torment of the heat. She lies down, panting as the warmth begins to become insufferable, and feels her jeans wet from the lubricant her body produces. Faramir keeps growling on the other side of the cage; he shows his teeth to warn her not to get closer and his bite on his paw has not loosened. 

They do not know how long has passed when Saruman returns. The warlock is not pleased so he also unties Éowyn’s hands. Still, they resist by a thread of their sanity. 

Saruman is furious and he drags Faramir out of the cage.

“No!” She cries, her body wouldn’t do anything at her command. 

Faramir turns back to human form; his hand is bleeding from the deep and gory bite wound. His hair is grabbed and he is thrown across the room. He lays there, gasping, exhausted from fighting his animal nature. He attempts to fight back but he is too weak while the warlock is powerful. Saruman points his staff at his shoulder and cuts start to appear on his bare skin. The dark wolf groans in agony.

“Stop it!” Her legs are useless now so she crawls towards them. She pulls herself up with the cage bars and begs. “You want an omega - then leave him alone! I will do whatever you want.”

Saruman strikes Faramir with his staff in anger and the park ranger faints. The warlock tips her chin up. “Rest now. I will need you two strong enough for tomorrow.” He walks out again, leaving the cage door open and her unbound. 

With difficulty, she inches her way to Faramir. She cups gently his ashen face, tears running from her eyes. “My dear wolf.” She whispers and he opens his eyes feebly. He nestles his face into her palms for comfort. She cradles his head on her lap despite her own tormenting fever.

“No…” He protests lowly. He is frightened because her touch excites him and he doesn’t think he can control himself with her gratifying scent. However, due to the blood loss, he faints again, his worry unnecessary. She sits against the wall and braves through her heat, fingers soothing his dark hair. She stares at the people in the tanks to distract herself, thinking in her dazed head how to get them out of here.

* * *

Éomer paces uneasily in the living room as he waits for Aragorn to finish the phone call. Éowyn has not texted back for two days and Arwen reports that she cannot find her anywhere in Rivendell as well. Many possibilities flash in his head: does she elope with her human boyfriend? Or is she taken by the kidnapper? He has tried to be calm but the idea of his sister in danger maddens him. 

“Sit down, Éomer. You are driving me crazy.” Théodred rubs his face. First Théoden has sided with Gríma instead of his own family and their relationship with the Gondorian has become sour, now Éowyn has vanished from Middle-earth, her fate unknown to the world. With her status… he can only hope she is not fallen into evil hands.

The two Rohirrim wolves almost jump when the leader of the Northern pack comes back from the porch. Aragorn says gravely. “As far as Elrond can tell, she was last seen with a man two days ago.”

“Have they contacted a witch or a warlock for a finding spell?” Éomer asks.

“No witch and warlock would go to Elvendom unless they are certain of receiving welcomes from the elves. Gandalf cannot be found anywhere so that’s the only clue we have for now.” Aragorn explains. Although it is common for the grey warlock to travel without telling anyone, he can’t help but worry for Gandalf too.

“Then we must go there. We can track her by her scent.” Éomer speaks as he runs up the stair to grab his pack.

Aragorn pulls out his phone to arrange the details. “Gather your stuff. I’ll get us a flight for tonight.”

The Rohirrim do not want to seek help from other packs, so the two Rohirrim and Aragorn take the first flight available to Rivendell and meet with the elves. When they arrive it is almost midnight. Éomer doesn’t want to waste time in sleeping, so Elladan and Elrohir take their bags and clothes after they transform into wolves in the nearby forest. The two Rohirrim sniff the air and identify her scent, and sneak into the city under the cover of shadows. It leads them first to the hotel, and in alarm, they find the scent of another wolf mixed with Éowyn’s.

Éomer bares his teeth in fury when he recognises it. It is one of the Gondorian. Aragorn barks at him to calm him down so that they can continue tracing. The scents get them to a bakery, then to the edge of the city. There is a small stone path leading into the forest; Aragorn knows where it leads, thus he warns them to approach with caution. From there, they detect two more fresh scents of wolves.

Warily they tread towards Glorfindel’s house. Before they reach the clearing, they see two black wolves circling the house. Éomer howls - _ the Gondorian! _ He rushes out from the trees and attacks one of them before he can be stopped. They twist together, rolling on the ground and Éomer wants to bite on his throat, but another dark wolf is barking loudly with authority, demanding them to stop this childish act. Aragorn knows them: Imrahil and Boromir. So he seizes the chance and bites on Éomer’s neck, separating him from Boromir and dragging him to the side. 

Aragorn releases his bite immediately when Théodred has control over Éomer. The young Rohirrim’s pride is wounded but suffers no physical harm. 

Aragorn cautiously walks to Imrahil and in agreement, they turn back into human form so that they can speak better. The other three younger wolves follow suit. “Imrahil,” he greets. “What reason brings you here?”

Boromir dusts off the leaves and dirt on his skin. His eyes scan them. “Where is my brother?”

“I should ask you, Gondorian. You kidnapped my sister!” Éomer yells. Théodred puts his hand in front of him to prevent him from charging again.

Imrahil pats Boromir on his shoulder. “Let do this peacefully.” He then turns to Aragorn with politeness. “We are here to seek my nephew, Faramir. He is on a short vacation in Rivendell but we lost contact with him two days ago. We track his scent and it leads us here.”

This new information brings another light to the situation. Aragorn explains. “Éowyn, niece of Théoden, has gone missing too. We are here for the same reason.”

Éomer thinks this as another trick done by the Gondorian. “This Gondorian wolf must have played tricks to kidnap Éowyn! First Gamling, now my sister.” 

“Stop it, Éomer!” Théodred commands. He has certainly inherited his father’s hot temper.

“No,” Aragorn shakes his head. “I smell magic and foul creatures here. A while ago Éowyn has asked me to identify supernatural creatures from the missing persons. Is it possible that she has been investigating the crime herself?”

Boromir then adds hesitantly. “Faramir handles the case of the dead Rohirrim in the Firien Wood. He has been out lately and I thought he was going out with someone…”

“Us too,” Théodred says. 

Something clicks inside Aragorn. “Faramir and Éowyn are working together to find the kidnappers, but they were ambushed when they were here.”

This fact makes their stomach churn. It means they are in danger. 

“We have to find her.” Éomer cannot imagine Éowyn being dead. She is the only remaining family he has.

“Let’s work together,” Aragorn suggests. “We must find Gandalf. Otherwise, we cannot fight a warlock on our own.” Two days have already passed and time is their enemy. They must hurry to find the warlock and locate the two young wolves before anything is done to them.

* * *

Éowyn wakes at the stings of her face; an orc has slapped her and another is peeling her away from Faramir. She thrashes against their grips, but she hasn’t eaten for a while and the pain of her unsatisfied heat nearly drives her to the brim of insanity. Another two orcs are binding Faramir in chains around his neck and hands. The ugly creatures sneer at her useless struggle and his lame growl and haul them out towards the door. 

Right outside there is a stone spiral staircase. They are pushed and pulled up to another level and she often trips between steps, only to have the orcs nearly dislocate her shoulders to keep her going. Eventually, after ascending three levels, they are nudged into another chamber. She can barely see as the vast room is lit with candles. In the middle is a pentagram engraved on the stone floor with symbols of old magic language. Nine straight lines stretch from the centre, a giant bottle of red substance is put at the end of each line except one. Saruman is standing by the pentagram as the orcs bring him the two prisoners. 

Faramir is dropped at the centre of the pentagram and his chains are fastened to the hooks on the ground. Additionally, his legs are also secured. He lays face up, limbs spread like a skinned animal. On the other hand, the orcs force her to sit at the line without a bottle, filling in the empty spot of the circle.

“Finally this moment comes… I have waited so long.” Saruman sighs. He looks at Faramir who whimpers and struggles uselessly, then to her. “A precious omega. Your family has hidden you well but you are too proud to understand why. Your blood is vital to the spell. Your body shall consort our Lord once we welcome him back to this realm.” With a wave of hands, the orcs begin to pour the bottles into the lines. 

The air is filled with the unique metal taste of blood. They flow into the centre underneath Faramir, who squirms, trying to get away from them. However, he is tightly chained, thus his back is covered in the blood of elves, dwarfs, and werewolves. They know well where those blood come from.

An orc fishes out a knife from his pocket. Éowyn wiggles as the other orc holds her wrist out. “Éowyn!” Faramir breathes, helpless, as she muffles her moans. Her wrist is gashed, blood oozing down to the line and through the path, mixing with the pool. Saruman stomps his staff on the floor and the orcs let go of her, running from the room in panic. The spell cannot be tainted by vileness.

Éowyn drops down for her head is dizzy. Saruman swiftly chants the forbidden spell and the pentagram lights up in a treacherous glow. In terror she watches the scene unfolds in front of her - Faramir suddenly screams in agony, his body twists as if he is going to transform. 

“Come, my Lord. I have provided the blood as your nutrient and found a perfect vessel for your spirit. Come back and you shall rule Middle-earth!”

The glow of the pentagram intensifies and the light is blinding to open eyes. However, before the spell can reach its completion, a wave of energy erupts from the pentagram, sending both Saruman and Éowyn flying to the walls. The blood paints the entire room in red. Faramir lays there as if he is dead with sweats and blood covering his body and the warlock runs to check on him. 

Saruman whines loudly as he inspects him with a spell. “Gandalf… You manage to escape my tower.” Years of planning and searching, his plot to deliver Sauron's spirit back to Middle-earth has failed and he can sense his whereabouts are being discovered. So he leaves the werewolves in the room, cares not for their lives. He must prepare before Gandalf and his help arrive.

Éowyn waits until the warlock has left to tend to Faramir. Her wrist is still bleeding; licking usually helps, but the cut is deep that her quick healing ability cannot heal it as it should be. She wriggles to Faramir and tries to unchain him. When her effort fails, her ears pick up a tiny whimper. 

Faramir is trying to speak. She leans closer to his mouth.

“Run…” He whispers hoarsely. 

“I am not leaving without you. We are in this together.” She says. Suddenly an idea comes to her.

She moves a few inches away from him and concentrates her mind on one thought only - she wills herself to transform into her wolf form. 

Faramir knows what she is planning to do and begs her to leave, his voice cracks due to all the screaming. “Do not waste it on me. Help the children and leave!” 

But she wouldn’t listen. She has blocked the world from her mind and wolf inside her is alarmed. Without the moonlight, it depends on their sheer willpower to force their wolf to come out. It would drain her energy and in her weakened state, he cannot imagine how her body can uphold the overwhelming outburst of power and stress. Éowyn keeps her mind simple: to transform so that she can get them out. With a terrifying screech, her bones snap. The transformation is more violent than before. Faramir gulps hardly when the bones pierce her pale skin and clothes, literally shedding a human skin to let the wolf out. She shrieks in pain; her body is burning as if it is on fire. Regardless of the agony, she focuses on one thought only. 

Then she is in her wolf form, fleshes and blood scatter around her. She shakes to rid of the pulps and blood on her snowy furs. 

It obviously weakens her as she staggers back to his side. She bites on the chain and thrashes about, taking some time to break the metal. When she is done with all the chains, her mouth has been bloody with cuts. She nudges Faramir to help him sit up and he softly strokes her jaw in gratitude. He kisses the tip of her nose. “Thank you, my wolf.” 

She purs weakly at his caresses. For a moment they find comfort in the small gestures, but there is a loud explosion and the castle shakes under its impact. 

Faramir gets to the door with his trembling legs. “We have to get them out too.” 

They rush down the staircase to the dungeon where others are held captive. The castle has been shaking the whole time. Some of the tanks have collapsed due to the explosion and Beregond and Fíli are laying in the midst of broken glass, struggling to breathe. Faramir does a rapid check on him. Once he is sure that he is not in immediate danger, he helps Éowyn to break other tanks. They have been submerged for a while and it takes time for their lungs to function properly. Éowyn and Faramir stay to calm them down because they have been in a coma for at least two months and the last thing they remember is being spelled by a Saruman. The dwarf child is crying and gripping onto her fur. The hobbits also seek comforts from her, burying their faces into her chest. She licks their faces to wipe the tears away and tugs them closer with her jaw. 

When Faramir is sure everyone is okay, they support each other and run for the staircase. They stumble and careen as there are more explosions. Each step they have to be careful as stones and clouds of dust would fall from the ceiling. At first they want to escape on the ground level, however, there are many orcs that rush out to the plains outside and they can hear the roars of heated battles. So they decide to go further up.

Fíli and Kíli are up ahead as they are agile dwarfs. “This way!” After climbing many steps, the twins announce that they have reached the top. They hide in the tower first, not daring to go out as they fear being spotted by the enemy. The blasts are more clear now - they are the clashes of magics between two powerful warlocks. 

Glorfindel points up to the sky. “The great eagles!” Everyone stretches their necks to see the eagle hovering above the battlefield, sometimes diving into orcs and killing them with their acuate beaks. The elf runs out and waves, shouting some elvish and the eagles notice them, huddling against each other in a tight bundle. One of them flies down and speaks with Glorfindel, and the elf nods in understanding. He swiftly turns to them. “Let’s get the children out first.” 

“We are no children!” Fíli and Kíli protest as the three dwarfs are made comfortable on the back of the great eagle. As they fly away, another eagle lands on the battlements. Beregond rides with the two young hobbits. 

Éowyn, Faramir, and Glorfindel return to the cover of the tower as they wait for the next eagle to come. They can see from the windows that reinforcement is here: on the ground, elves and dwarfs are fighting with the orcs, and Saruman and Gandalf engage in a battle of magic. 

Éowyn is spent; her eyes are blurry and her body is about to shut down. But she keeps up and snarls when she smells the repellent orcs. Some have seen the terrible deaths of others and they want to flee, yet they run up the tower and find the werewolves and elf there. Although they are shocked at first to see them in the tower, they quickly recover and charge the group, thinking they will win with a greater number.

“Watch out!” Faramir wants to help but his right arm is useless and legs are too feeble to even stand. Éowyn stands before him protectively and howls, warning them not to get any closer, and she jumps on top of an orc to tear his throat when they make one step forward. Glorfindel, without a weapon, fights them with bare hands. He disarms them and uses their own knives to end their lives. 

When the great eagle comes for them, the last orc is finished by Éowyn. Her mouth is decorated with orc flesh and filthy blood. Faramir reaches out when she staggers back to him. She crumples, her body and mind completely burn out. He leaps to catch her and gathers her in his arms as she transforms back to human form. “Éowyn!”

Glorfindel touches her face and sighs in relief. “She is still alive, simply worn out.” He glances at the eagle waiting for them at the battlements. “Come on,” and he helps Faramir to get her up to the eagle’s back. 

They look down to find their friends winning the fight as the orcs are being pushed back into the castle. Gandalf radiates a white light from his staff and the beam fires at Saruman. The warlock tries to block but he is too late and he already spends much of his magic doing the spirit summoning spell. So he is hit right on his chest, and he lays on the ground unmoving. The orcs scatter in fright at the sight of their master losing, and force of alliance presses harder. Faramir cannot see the end of it because the eagle has borne them far away to safety, but he is certain that the evil will be defeated.

The eagle lands in the backyard of Elrond’s mansion and the elves are there to receive them. His daughter, Arwen, gasps at their appearance. They must look terrible. He is pushed onto a wheelchair when the healers hurry to get Éowyn into the bed. 

“I need to be with her.” He pleads, holding her hand.

Arwen explains. “You two suffer different injuries and must be tended separately.” The healers would not allow him room to argue and usher him into a makeshift medical room. The cuts on his right arm are severe and nerves are damaged. Only magic can heal it. Faramir attempts to keep his eyes open, yet days of torture and stress has exhausted him. Against his wishes, he falls asleep as the healers clean his wounds. 

* * *

As they are being treated by the elven healers, Saruman and his army of orcs are defeated. Elves, dwarfs, and werewolves eliminate every orc they can see and banish evil from the lands. Saruman is locked away by Gandalf, and with other witches and warlocks, they create another realm to imprison Saruman for his wicked deeds. Once again the supernatural world of Middle-earth is at peace. 

The eagles bring back the warriors and Elrond holds a small celebration for them. There, Gandalf reveals his side of the story as a small group gathers around the table to listen.

“I was concerned about the missing persons dated a few months back. An evil force was gathering. I did some diggings myself and they led me to Saruman. When I confronted him in the tower of Isengard, he keeps me prisoner and removes my staff from me so to prevent me from performing any spell to escape. It is Galadriel who read this through the mirror that she informed Elrond to have the great eagles to rescue me.”

Aragorn nods as the timeline is connected. “That’s the moment we met you after we returned from Glorfindel’s house. No wonder you looked so ragged.”

Elrond deduces. “He must have killed Gamling and put him in Firien Wood to deter the peace treaty between the Rohirrim and us.”

Gandalf strokes his long beard. “It is better to alienate packs and clans so that a joint force couldn’t be raised when the attack comes.”

“Now that everything is clear, perhaps we can expect an alliance between Rohirrim and Gondorian?” The Lord of Rivendell remarks.

Aragorn and Gandalf smile at his suggestion. “Even more than that,” the warlock sips his wine, his wise eyes settle in the direction of the healing ward.

* * *

The werewolves have no interest in celebration as they hurry to the side wing where the healing ward is located. Théodred and Éomer are shocked by the sight of Éowyn that they are speechless at first. She looks extremely pale like a piece of paper, always frowning like she is having a bad dream. Her body is wrapped in bandages after elven healing. 

“Éowyn…” Éomer takes her hand. 

An elven healer explains to them sympathetically. “Your sister has undergone some tortures when she was captive. She has completely drained herself and her mind slips into a coma.”

Théodred puts a hand on Éomer’s shoulder. The young wolf is trembling, attempting to keep his tears down. “When will she wake?” He chokes.

“I do not know.” The healer excuses herself and leaves the Rohirrim alone. 

“Oh Éowyn,” at last he breaks, tears running down his cheeks. Théodred tries to comfort him but finds himself also crying. Everything they have done to keep her away from danger, still they cannot cheat fate. 

They tell Théoden about the plots of Saruman and the victorious battle, and his mind suddenly wakes. He recognises Gríma as a spy of the warlock and banishes him from the Rohirrim. No one cares where he would go. He will not be accepted into any pack and would die alone. 

For a week there has not been any improvement. The people she rescued in the castle have visited, praying with the two Rohirrim wolves that she would wake soon. Éomer grows anxious every day and eventually, he suggests they should relocate her back to Aldburg, hoping a familiar environment would help. The healers cannot say if it is useful, but after inspections most of her wounds have been healed and it is safe to transfer her through a plane. So Théodred arranges the flight with help from Elrond and Arwen. By the end of the week, they are on the way back home.

Carefully she is lifted into her own bed. Her body is recovering, but her mind has been shut down like a computer running in sleep mode, just that there is no button to wake her up. Éomer guards her days and nights in case she wakes, yet each day passes he falls deeper into despair. 

She wakes in the night of the full moon, three weeks after returning home.

_ What… Where am I? _ She listens carefully and a man is snoring nearby. _Éomer._ It is adorable at first but soon it gets rather annoying. She slowly opens her eyes and let them adjust to the darkness. _ There! _ Éomer has made a bed with blankets and pillows next to hers on the floor. She tries to wake him but her tongue wouldn’t move. She needs to take things slow. 

She turns to the window and stares at the moon. Her mind was floating in a void. In the beginning she swam around looking for exits, however, she gave up when there seemed to have no ends. Suddenly there is a light - Éowyn blinks. The moon is calling her. _ Come back, my child._ It coaxes. She follows the bright light and she is back to reality. 

The moonlight reaches her blanket. She wants to shower in it. Feel its caresses on her skin. Her limbs, having minds of their own, don’t move as she wants them to. Struggling, her throat peeps a tiny noise.

“Um…” 

And Éomer jerks up. He rubs his sleepy eyes and he almost thinks he is dreaming when a pair of grey eyes is looking at him. “Éowyn?” He breathes cautiously, “are you awake?”

She tries again. The sound is more like sputum caught in her throat. He jumps up in joy. “Valar’s blessing!” 

Éowyn tugs a tight smile. She misses this world.

The following morning though she cannot move her limbs, she can speak with a clear mind. Théoden is crying by her bed and she doesn’t think she has seen her uncle in tears before, save for the deaths of her parents. Théodred has cooked her meals that make her stomach screaming in hunger. Under their thoughtful care, she can get out of bed a week later.

She closes her eyes as the sun kisses her face. She loves the moon, but also the sun. It means another day, another beginning. 

Her phone has been kept away from her as they insist she should focus on healing first. She agrees on that but it can get tediously boring, as there is nothing she can do except walking around in the house. Théodred has made toasts and hot chocolate for her so that she can sit on the porch and welcome a brand new day. Machines are operating in the background; Théoden and Éomer are working on the crops as Théodred stays to keep her company. The summer is almost ending and they are preparing to harvest the wheat. She would like to help but her body requires much longer rest. Her skin is littered with scars - the effect of her forced transformation. Her legs would shake if she stands too long, and she sleeps way more than she used to. Arwen has kindly sent an elven healer to check on her once she woke from slumber. It would take months for her to fully recover back to her original strength. 

Éowyn sighs. Her uncle has written to Shepherd about her absence with an explanation that she has been involved in a terrible accident when she helped out on the farm. In the end, she is suspended from service and needs to be evaluated again if she wants to return. That would have to wait until next year.

Faramir comes to her mind often. She remembers the days they spent in the dungeon. When Saruman cast the revealing spell on him and forcing him to turn into a wolf, she was frightened that she might be violated. But he didn’t. He hurt himself and fought his instinct because he knew her. She didn’t want it. 

Now that she looks back to those memories, she loves him even more. 

They wouldn’t have a problem for them to be together, would they? Faramir is a werewolf just like her. She doesn’t have to cut her ties with her family in order to be with him. 

She wants to learn what happened to him. However, her family often keeps their mouths shut when she mentions his name. 

Théodred comes to her with a blanket. “The morning can be chilly.” He wraps her in it to keep her warm and sits down next to her. “What are you thinking about?”

“Faramir,” she whispers.

“I figure.” 

“I want to know how he’s doing. Why wouldn’t you tell me? He saved my life.”

“It’s not that simple.” He sighs.

“I can handle the truth!” She mutters. They are still treating her like a child. A terrible thought comes to her. “Please don’t tell me he is dead.” _No._ _He cannot be dead. He can’t be! _

Théodred is obviously fighting an inner battle. Eventually, he gives up and walks away. 

Is he truly lost to the world? She cannot see his smile ever again? Colours start to fade before her and she can only see black, white, and grey. After what they have been through, he slips out of her grasp. Éowyn feels so cold despite the sun and she tugs the blanket around her tighter.

“Here.”

She looks up to see Théodred handing her the phone. She takes it with a silent thanks and searches _handsome park ranger._

  
Her hands shake as she presses the call button.


	6. The Light

Chapter 6: The Light

Mirkwood is different from Firien Wood and it is full of different creatures. Éowyn’s jaw drops in awe as they travel towards Thranduil’s Halls. She lags behind the pack and almost loses her way, if not for Théoden’s howl up ahead to call her back. It is late winter so she happily rolls in the snow.

When they reach the Halls in the evening they receive a warm welcome from the elves. They are given clothes after they transform back into human forms and she is given a white dress which she slips into it with ease. She has lost weights in the past months and Théodred takes every opportunity to feed her.

“It matches you beautifully,” Legolas praises as they hug tightly. The elf has visited her during her recovery. “Come! Gimli and the hobbits are drinking already!”

Éowyn laughs wholeheartedly as she is carried into the caves by the elf. A merry celebration is going on when they arrive at the vast cave system. Gandalf is there show his magic tricks, a dragon flying between stone pillars. Legolas leads her down the path to a large stone platform where the gathered crowd is enjoying the feast and music. It’s been many years she has seen to such a happy banquet. The last time she was too sorrowful to participate. Seeing hobbits, elves, dwarfs and werewolves drinking and singing joyously together, her spirit is lifted. 

“Let me down!” She urges Legolas when Frodo and Sam spot them. The two hobbits run to her and shove a bottle of ale in her hand. “You are late.” Frodo jokes as they hold her elbow and guide her to one of the tables. 

The group consists of familiar faces. Gimli slams his fist on the table and shouts. “I challenge you!” 

Legolas willingly accepts. “It’s a losing battle for you.” And Pippin and Merry gladly fill their cups when empty. Éowyn sips and watches with amusement. This is the first time she travels after recovery. She flizzens with the hobbits when Gimli drinks messily. 

“Your beard drinks it all!” The elf protests. Five cups in and he is still standing. 

“What nonsense are you accusing me of?” The dwarf scowls and downs another cup. His clothes wet as beer is spilt from the tilted cup.

Frodo has to shout in her ear because of the noisy bliss. “How are you doing?”

She puts her arm around his shoulder. The hobbit has been texting her every day since she has gotten back her phone. “Much better now, still a bit sore though.”

The group erupts in laughter when Gimli slips off from his seat, too drunk to uphold himself. Legolas hurries to get him back up, the dwarf is mumbling coherently. She snickers; the pair always makes her laugh. She misses them dearly.

Since she has been in solitary for her recovery, she is eager to get updated about her friends. Pippin and Merry are back to university, Frodo hires them as part-time to share his burden of the grocery store. Sam is going to have another baby and the group congratulates him by forcing more drinks into his belly. Gimli and Legolas finally make up plans to travel around Middle-earth by bicycles, which they have spoken about for almost fifty years, according to Sam.

“Are you riding on a kids’ bike then?” She inquires innocently. 

“What!” The dwarf is offended by her question. He huffs angrily. “Have you seen my legs? They are long enough to reach the pedals!”

Legolas says as he drinks. “No, you don’t.”

“Shut up you wicked elf!” 

The night Éowyn grins until her face hurts. After a few hours, she needs to get some fresh air so she excuses herself from the group. She bumps into several people. More have just arrived at the Halls for the celebration. Eventually, after some struggles, she walks back to the forest.

She strolls along the treeline and picks a reclusive spot not far away with a view to the entrance, so that if her friends and family come looking for her she would know. She leans against the tree and feels the moonlight’s touch. It is gentle on her pale, freckled face._ Just like…_

Her nose picks up the scent. She looks at her left and finds him right away.

Faramir is wandering among the trees, dresses in black shirt and jeans. Like a lone wolf he walks mindlessly, head low in sorrow and melancholy. He seems deep in contemplation until he also finds a familiar scent. His head bobs up and their eyes lock.

She shudders; the Gondorian has not responded to her texts and calls for months. The only thing she knows is that he needs time alone to deal with his injury. She has been worried but he refuses to answer her messages and has Boromir to tell her he is not available. 

Their relationship has been built upon lies. She wonders if it is one of the reasons he withdraws. Although they have been through hell together, the break of trust is difficult to recover.

Just as she is thinking about what she should do, Faramir starts walking cautiously towards her. She lowers her head, heart jumping fast because of anxiety. She cannot anticipate what he is going to say.

“You look unworldly in this dress.” He stops a few steps away, leaning against a tree by his side. His face is in the shadow but his eyes shine like stars. 

“Thank you.” She tugs a shy smile at his compliment. 

“Why are you not celebrating?”

“I drank too much and I need some air. What about you?”

“I wanted to join but it is too noisy for my liking.” 

He is lying. Now that she knows the truth that they have been both keeping secrets when they first met, it is easy to tell when he lies. He is a terrible liar.

“Tell me what happened.” She implores lowly. 

Faramir opens his mouth but no word comes. “I guess I can’t lie to you any longer. Can I?” He jokes with a forced smile. “From the beginning?”

“If you will.”

The shadow shakes by the wind and reveals his face under the moonlight for a brief moment. There are dark circles under his eyes. Slowly he begins. “When I first met you in the Firien Wood, I didn’t think you were a werewolf. But then Shepherd called you Éowyn and I recalled hearing it somewhere before: a long time ago my father spoke of an omega being presented in the Rohirrim and that’s your name. I thought it a coincidence. After all, you didn’t smell like one.”

“I was on suppressant. Still am, but Gandalf makes it much weaker so that my body can take it.”

“That’s good.” He smiles at the information but then he is on alarm. “Has your body not fully healed?”

The very first thought is to lie. Éowyn doesn’t want him to worry. However, under his pleading eyes, she tells him. “The elven healers have helped but the scars remain. I get sick every time I transform into a wolf. The past few months I have vomited so many times that I lose count.” Faramir steps forwards, a hand lifts in the air like he wants to touch her, yet retreats back into the shadow when he thinks it improper. 

She decides it is not the time to talk of herself. “What did I do that you realise I am a werewolf?”

He chuckles at her avoidance and goes with her flow. “The way you speak of your family and how you behave. I had my suspicion. It matches with what I know of the Rohirrim pack. Do you remember I kissed your cheek in Minas Tirith?”

She smiles at the memory and nods.

“Being so close, I caught your true scent. It was a whiff but I caught it.”

“Yet you said nothing. Why did you not reveal yourself to me?” She asks. If she knew he is also a werewolf, everything would be much easier. 

“Because you didn’t want to me to be,” Faramir says sadly. “You have been struggling in our world and you want an escape. Being in love with a human is your ticket out.”

His words shock her because it is true. Éowyn suddenly realises deep down she sees him as a way to leave the oppressive supernatural world behind. The signs are so obvious and everything clicks. In Minas Tirith, Thorin and Beregond’s wife were acting strange. She once thought it was just because of him living there in his youth. _No._ She shakes her head. She has been denying the truth because it is better if she doesn’t know. She is so stupid and blinded.

“I am sorry,” she chokes, thinking she has hurt him. He probably thinks she only loves him because of that. “But I wasn’t lying in Rivendell. My heart already falls for you. You are gentle and caring. No one understands me, yet you do.” 

She braves herself and strides towards him. Faramir tries to evade but his face is sought by her soft hands. “I love you, Faramir, human or werewolf.” She tips her toes to kiss him, yet he swiftly pushes her shoulders and turns his head away. His eyes shut in pain. 

“I can’t, Éowyn. _I can’t_!” 

Her heart aches at his throaty voice. He seems to be in great agony. “Are you hurt?” She asks nervously. 

Faramir reverses and almost trips over the exposed roots on the ground. She reaches out to catch his hand but he snaps at her. “Don’t get any closer!” He sounds awfully anxious and scared. “I can’t be with you.”

“Why?” She can’t watch him suffer. Her body is crying for him.

“I am not what I was.” He frets, tears threatening to fall. “The summoning spell has changed me.”

“In what way?”

“He hasn’t failed, Éowyn.” 

_He hasn’t failed? _A dread ties knot in her stomach.

His mouth trembles and tears roll down his bloodless cheeks. “Although Gandalf had sent a wave of magic to interrupt the spell, the connection has already been created.” In despair, he whimpers. “He has no control over my body but I can hear his venomous whispers in my head. He plagues my waking moments and my dreams.”

Éowyn rushes to embrace him when he collapses onto the ground in hurt and grief. Faramir cries on her shoulder, clenching onto her like a man holding onto a piece of wood in the raging sea. She can’t believe this is real. Why does it come to be like this? Physically injuries can be healed, but with the mind… 

His tears wet her dress. His voice is muffled. “_He is killing me_: all the vile words he spits at me! If you can hear him right now…!” 

Her back is hurt by his nails but she doesn’t care. She only wants to comfort him. It breaks her heart to see him in pain. “Has Gandalf found a way to break the connection? There has to be.” She cries with him, thinking that it is unfair. Faramir has had a tough life and why would the Valar be so cruel to make him suffer? She soothes his back and his hair, at loss of what she can do to assuage his anguish.

“He is trying but the progress is slow.” He gulps, somewhat calms down as he is in her arms. “It takes all my willpower to fight him. I am scared that one day I won’t be able to, then I will hurt you and everyone around me.” 

She kisses his temple. “Do you remember how you fought against your instinct as a wolf when we were in the dungeon? I believe in your kind and gentle soul. You have taught me to have hope.” He lifts his head from her shoulder; she smiles at him tenderly. “And I know we can fight him. Gandalf will find a way to banish him away from your mind and I will be with you the whole way.” She strokes his stubbled jaw and kisses him. 

As their lips connect, the voice of Sauron vanishes. He was cursing in his head and the next second he is gone. The air is still for the following minutes, then he pulls away and touches her face, eyes widen in disbelief, wonder and awe. For once, his head is clear of the filthy soul that shadows his thoughts for weeks.

Éowyn doesn’t know so she beseeches again. “Please don’t push me away.” 

He doesn’t believe miracles before but she saves him from the talons of Sauron. Her presence calms him like moonlight. He cups her face and kisses her again. She purrs at the softness of his lips.

“You chase him away, my dear wolf.” He whispers, caressing her jaw once they separate from each other. He is willing to drown himself in her bottomless grey eyes that are full of love. 

He chuckles because this is surreal. Gandalf has spent months trying to find a spell and yet it is a kiss that defeats Sauron. He sees her frowning, confused about what has happened. 

“Your kiss saves me, Éowyn.” 

Éowyn is stunned and she whispers. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He nods and welcomes it when she happily throws her arms around him. In joy, they laugh and he pulls her up from the ground. They walk out from the canopy and let the moonlight shine over them.

Faramir tugs her into his arms and he smiles at her. “You are my light. You saved me from the darkness.” 

She gently grips on his shoulders, thumbs feeling the healed scars through the shirt. “If this is a dream, I hope I would never wake up.” 

He closes the distance so that there is no gap between their bodies and they can feel each other’s heartbeats. They sway lightly like they are slow dancing in the middle of the forest. 

“Would you allow me to court you properly?” He mutters, struck by her beauty as the moonlight illuminates her blond hair and pale face. Beauty that no elvish word can match.

“My heart is already yours.” She speaks into his mouth and he licks her every word.

* * *

In Firien Wood, a white wolf is sniffing the air, looking for one particular scent. She has run here much earlier than the agreed time and another wolf hasn’t come yet, so she lays close by the Mering Stream and inspects herself in the reflection. For the meeting she has asked Éomer to brush her furs, making it glossy under the waxing moon.

On the other side of the stream comes the scent she has been longing for. She stands up and howls, urging him to run faster. There is an answering call; and under the shadow, a black wolf bursts out from the tree line and sprints across the water. She excitedly stands on her hind legs, paws waving as to welcome him. The grey-blue eyes shine brightly with the black furs and he pants since he has hurried his way to the forest. She licks his mouth and face and he returns the gesture lovingly. They stroll along the stream, black and white tangle together, shoulder to shoulder, often she would rub her face on his neck to leave her scent on him. It is the action of scent-marking so that other wolves would know they are not available. 

Usually Firien Wood is the perfect hunting ground with great numbers of preys but they are not here to hunt. This place is special to them as it is where they first met. Being with him she doesn’t want to hunt anymore; she grows to love the animals. When it is necessary to kill for hunger, she does so with gratitude. 

He nudges her when her thought drifts to the fawn. She huffs slightly, hoping he wouldn’t worry about her. Although he is protective of her like her family, he respects her choices. She is grateful for his trust in her ability, one of the many reasons why she loves him dearly. In turn, she opens up to him, keeping no secrets because he accepts her as what she is. She has never been so comfortable around a wolf before. Even friends she has kept a barrier, but not him. He is special. _He is the one._

Once every two weeks, they meet in the forest for a stroll during the night. Out of the forest they continue walking in the vast lands until they reach the end of Mering Stream and come to face the river Entwash. There, bathe in the moonlight, they howl to the moon to pay their respect to the Valar.

He lays down first, flipping his belly up for her to lean on. She snickers; he looks like a dog asking for belly rubs. He doesn’t care about her teasing and purrs with pleasure when she settles next to him. He turns to lay on his side and she wiggles to get into his embrace. He licks her furs, thinking they look beautiful like the fresh snow. She hums in approval. His grooming is always on point. 

They stay like that for a while until it is time to go. They get up and touch each other’s nose to bid farewell. The white wolf heads back to Aldburg while the black wolf moves towards Ithilien. The ritual is done.

* * *

Éowyn yawns. She hasn’t slept many hours the previous night and she gets an early shift. Luckily Éomer is driving her to Edoras because he has business to attend to, so she can catch some sleep during the drive.

Before she starts her shift, she calls the _handsome park ranger._

“Good morning, my love.” Faramir picks up after two rings. 

“Are you sleeping?” She asks, still feeling coy being called various nicknames. They are cute and adorable and she loves it, but she isn’t used to being spoiled and complimented in a romantic way.

“I am up already to get breakfast with Boromir.”

She groans as she leans against the locker. “I hate morning shift.”

He laughs but not without sympathy. “Just think that you are going to see me tonight.”

Faramir has the weekends off from ranger duty and he has planned to visit her family farms in Aldburg. Éowyn can’t wait. She grins as energy floods into her body. “Of course. I miss you already.” She whispers so that her colleagues wouldn’t hear. They would tease her to no end if they know she is completely smitten with the park ranger.

“Me too. Well, I will let you work now.” 

Hearing his voices certainly lifts her spirit. The tedious day of work suddenly becomes enjoyable. Every passing hour means she is closer to see Faramir tonight.

Éowyn frantically calls Éomer when he isn’t there to pick her up. “Where the hell are you!?” She shouts. He promises to be here right at the end of her shift! She doesn’t want to waste another minute in Edoras. 

“There is a minor problem with the contractor,” Éomer grunts. “Thirty minutes, I swear.”

She hangs up on him. She wishes she has wings so that she can fly back to Aldburg right now. Sitting on the steps outside the police station, she calls Faramir with the depressing news. 

Yet the park ranger isn’t troubled. “I guess I can spend more time with your uncle then. We are done with the crops and I think we are heading to the stables.” 

“You sound very excited.” She says bitterly, humiliated that her eagerness to spend time with him isn’t reciprocated. She feels like an idiot.

“I want to know more about you and the place you grew up in,” Faramir explains with patience. “I can see traces of you everywhere; the doodles on the walls, handwritten signs here and there. Do you know you misspell hen? You wrote _hem_. Théoden said you have the tendency to mix the letters up.”

“That’s a long time ago.” She remembers that one; she helped writing it when her parents visited the farm during summer. “What other embarrassing trivia did he share?”

“It’s not embarrassing. Yes?” He lowers the phone to speak with Théoden, who wants to get the horses out for some exercise. “I have to go, freckles.” Faramir apologises sincerely. “Your uncle wants me to clean the stalls.”

Éowyn sighs. Her uncle is obviously testing his limits. She would like to have a conversation with Théoden later. So the call ends and she waits, kicking stones on the pavement to keep herself occupied. Finally, after twenty minutes Éomer appears. She instantly jumps into his car. He snorts, never seen her so keen about a man. Under her deadly glare he drives home.

Before they park, she already spots the Gondorian on the porch. As soon as Éomer brakes she hops out and runs towards Faramir, who opens his arms to catch her. He stumbles at the impact; laughing lightly as Éowyn hugs him tightly. “I can’t breathe, giant wolf!” He yelps, the huge grin on his face betrays him.

Disregards of Éomer’s snickers, she pushes them inside. They really need to find a place to cuddle. 

“Dinner is in an hour!” Théodred announces from the kitchen when the two young wolves go to her room. Éomer adds, “Keep the door open or I will kick it down.”

She sticks out her tongue to him. She is an adult and her virtue doesn’t require protection! She leads Faramir inside her room and locks the door.

“Shouldn’t we keep it open?” He asks innocently.

_Oh, what a nobleman of rules._ She is grinning as she rolls her eyes hard. “They wouldn’t dare. The one thing they do not want to see is his dear sister doing a Gondorian black wolf on her bed.”

“Éowyn!” Faramir flushes. He should be used to her being bold now. Yet it makes him shy to think that a woman as fierce as Éowyn would love him. She adores his romantic heart under the weathered appearance.

“I’m just kidding,” she lays down on her bed, exhausted after a day’s work. He follows her and gathers her in his arms. She places her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeats and puts her limbs around his torso and legs. He gently combs her hair. If she can purr right now, she would sound like a helicopter. She can definitely get used to this.

They nestle in bed until dinner time. For Faramir, it is more of an interrogation. The three Rohirrim wolves basically ask the entire history of his family and challenge him with many what-if scenarios, like if Éowyn and Boromir fall into the ocean at the same time whom he is going to save and other ridiculous imagined situations. Éowyn defends him several times - she is not letting her family run over her lover, but he refuses help from her and answers the questions with manner and wit.

Finally, dinner is finished and the Rohirrim is out for patrol. Faramir releases a long breath when the wolves have set off. Éowyn thoughtfully massages his tense shoulders. “My poor wolf,” she comforts. Her stay at the Gondorian house in Ithilien is heavenly. Denethor treats her like a daughter while Boromir considers her a young sister. They took her out for camping and it was wonderful. Faramir doesn’t have it easy when he is confronted by three overly protective werewolves.

“I don’t mind,” he hums. “It’s natural for them to worry that you might have given your heart to the wrong person. If I have a sister I would have done the same.” He takes her hands and leads them inside, thinking it is time for movie night. However, she stops him from going to the living room. He raises a brow, questions in his eyes.

“Did you really not notice?” Éowyn whispers. She has planned this for months and he seems clueless.

“No?” He asks, frowning, though his heart is beating fast on its own. There is something in the air.

With their linked hands she steps closer until their bodies almost touch, their noses brushing. Her lips hover above his; she looks into his grey pure eyes and says what has been in her mind for the past six months.

“I want to mark you, Faramir.” She breathes. Werewolves do not marry by vows and wedding rings. They do it by marking on the partner’s neck while they unite as one, body and mind. A permanent bite to show the world that they are taken. 

He gasps and jaw drops in shock, hands gripping hard onto her bony fingers. He pulls a few inches away so that he can survey her face. She speaks honestly of her desire and at last, he detects the strong and predatory scent of musk from her. It is weak due to her suppressant but it is there. He is upset that he doesn’t pick it up sooner and Éowyn has to tell him in words. A considerate partner should have smelled it.

“Are you sure?” He cups her face gently. A year ago they have met and six months they are lovers, the most they have done is rubbing their scents on each other and some groping. Wouldn’t it be too fast? His courtship has been underwhelming since they are both busy with their work and barely have time to meet. 

“Yes,” Éowyn nods with certainty and confidence. “Would you have me marked you, so that you can be mine and mine only?” Valar have arranged them to cross paths and her life has been joyous and nothing else since then. She is tired of waiting. Faramir is the one. She knows this. Her family and friends know this. _He knows this._

“Mark me yours.” 

“Gladly.” She mutters.

He stoops to kiss her and a spark is ignited. It swiftly turns into a fire of passion and desire. The two wolves stumble to her room upstairs and none spares a thought on locking the door. Though there is an urgency in their lovemaking and marking, they do so in love and gentleness. Under the witness of the moon, the union is completed. 

They lay naked under the tangled blankets, breathless and satisfied. Éowyn touches the fresh mark on his neck and giggles. _He is hers._ She has bonded herself to this perfect wolf and man forever.

He purrs with a smile on his face. “Can you stop grinning?”

“Can you not?” She hums as he fondles his bite mark on her neck. 

His answer is simple. He kisses her and their hands once again explore their territories. They moan at the pleasant feeling that makes them tremble: they have found each other in this world after years of loneliness. They have found home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first, I planned for a short epilogue, but ideas just keep coming up. Maybe I will write some drabbles about their lives after the union. 
> 
> I really enjoy writing this story and thank you for joining me on this journey.


End file.
